


Dragon

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Comedy, Dragons, Fantasy AU, Fluff and Angst, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Mages, Mild Fantasy Violence, Romance, Sciles, Smut, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, a visiting noble child became best friends with Prince Scott, but his family was considered too common and he never saw the prince again. Years later, Worst (not actually a real) Knight In Existence Stiles Stilinski is looking to prove his worth and earn back the right to see the boy with the dark eyes. The plan was simple: slay the dragon, save Princess Allison, and be declared a hero! But nothing ever stayed simple. The Princess didn’t need rescuing, the dragon had a disturbingly familiar sunshiney smile, and an unknown curse was trying to destroy everything he’d been fighting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter the Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Written by [Tmautog/Dans](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/) and [Rune](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com) for the 2014-15 Sciles Big Bang.
> 
> All of the absolutely incredible art was done by [Mel/Sixfootdeep](http://sixfootdeep.tumblr.com/) who's left us both speechless. We both have no way to thank you for everything, working with you has been amazing.

 

 

 

In Fedelren, slaying dragons and saving princesses wasn’t exactly a coming of age tradition, unlike cleaning the stables or learning how to do taxes. For one thing, dragons were a rare and elusive species. For another, any dragon capable of capturing a Lady of the Court was probably really friggin scary. Ladies of the Court were among the most awesome warriors in the lands, after all, but it was an express lane to nobility and Stiles needed all the help he could get.

Lord Stiles of the Stilinskis (you knew your name was odd when the court announcers preferred using your nickname), son of the Earl of Stilinski, heir to the Stilinski’s three farms and really tall cliff - lots of land, not all of it useful - didn’t have much else of a choice. It was either dragon hunting or marrying up fifteen times, and Stiles didn’t think he’d live long enough for the second option. He wasn’t all too sure he’d live through the first.

Royalty was awesome. He told that to anyone who asked why he bothered. That might have been the entire truth, or it might have involved the Stilinskis’s travels to the Northern Kingdoms when Stiles was wee. In the Palace of Delgado, while his parents paid homage to their hosts, he’d found the scruffiest prince since ever busy building a tower of shimmering light. Stiles broke it. The scruff ball started to scream, so Stiles screamed back, and maybe he pulled the prince’s suspenders, he wasn’t entirely sure. Everything got a little hazy after the prince threw the first punch. They yelled and squabbled, and by the end of the day, Stiles was weaving a crown of birch leaves for his new best friend.

"I WILL MARRY PRINCE SCRUFFY," Stiles yelled, the same time his father said, "I’m so sorry your majesty."

They’d never visited the Delgado estates again. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was his fault, but when he tried writing the Prince, his only reply came from a court scribe demanding to know who he was really writing to. The ‘royalty was awesome’ explanation was easier.

Stiles figured he could team up with the princess, find some sneaky back entrance to escape the dragon, and maybe leave a dead donkey in its hall to thank it for not eating them. Then he would convince her with his abundant charm and wit that he ought to be promoted to princehood so he could woo Prince Scruffy. The plan sounded a lot better in Stiles’s head, so that was where it stayed.

Closer than they knew, someone not-so-scruffy-anymore vehemently disagreed. Royalty was definitely not awesome.

Or maybe it had been when Scott was little and the only thing he needed to worry about was how to best escape his tutors, sneak through the castle and out to the stables to watch the cat who’d just had kittens or out to the fields where the commoners watched the sheep. He never meant to make the castle staff worry, but he loved creeping out of the cold stone walls though it always meant being dragged back after a day of freedom, muddy and grinning. His father never approved, but his mother said that getting to know their people and earning their love was always important for a future ruler. His father never approved of anything he’d ever done, especially his relationship with the loud, boisterous children of visiting dignitaries. There was a time years ago that Scott had been so sure he’d finally met a friend he’d be able to keep for once, but royalty meant never living up to some else’s standards.

At least until he met Allison of the Argents, even his father didn’t oppose the match. She was a warrior and Scott was endlessly fascinated by how strong and brave she was. They should have had a happy ending with Scott winning hearts and Allison inspiring loyalty as the two of them defended their united people, but the Argents hadn’t seen the match the same way, King Gerard Argent most of all. King Gerard had seen a threat in the young prince, but he also saw opportunity. As their only heir, removing Scott would weaken the Delgados, and play right into his plans for power.

In all the stories Scott had ever heard growing up, the prince was the one who fought dragons to rescue the princess, slaying the beast in glorious battle and coming home a hero. They didn’t become the monster.

Gerard’s curse had twisted him into something dangerous and cold blooded, a true monster that “stole” a princess and held her hostage against her will or so the legend went throughout the lands. Allison knew better, sorry for her poor prince who was forced to curl around her cursed tower. He was still gentle, the boy she’d loved still inside the beast. Perhaps he was even more trapped than she. Neither of them could go far from the castle without excruciating pain surging through them, and the price to break the spell was too great. The death of one would bind the other’s body and will to whoever committed the crime. So they dreamed of freedom together. There was always hope and both of them too stubborn to give up on it.

The steady stream of hardheaded knights with their swords did nothing to help. They didn’t want to listen to reason, just stick Scott with enough pointy bits to carry off the princess and win her lands (oh, and her heart maybe. Land always came first). If they came prepared to fight a dragon, then they vastly underestimated the princess herself and between the two of them, they sent the would-be suitors running for their lives.

 

The news of Princess Allison’s abduction traveled far and wide across Fedelren, about how a terrible beast had smuggled her away to Castle Blackheart for - reasons. Stiles didn’t understand why dragons wanted princesses to begin with, but he could ask afterwards he supposed. It was very greedy of it anyway. In Princess Allison’s absence, the Argent lands had fallen to hardship, like something was stealing the life out of its very soil. She was the heir to her great kingdom and heavily involved with its politics, the only Argent who seemed to have any interest in the throne, with even far more drive than her father and aunt.

During the months following her disappearance, stories trickled in about brokenhearted knights who’d risked everything and their lives to save her. No one seemed to die on these quests, which helped Stiles decide between Castle Blackheart and a longer journey to the West where some sea dragon had stolen a princess’s voice. It also helped that Stiles had no idea how he’d get about rescuing a voice. Could he keep it in his knapsack?

He traveled for months on his semi-royal steed, Jackson the Unyielding, the tallest donkey in his stable, mostly dragging the beast along and stuffing it with food. All the better to tempt the dragon with. Stiles wasn’t sure if Jackson was naturally an ass, or if he suspected the darker nature of his fate, but the noble was pretty sure if he’d traveled by goat, he’d have cut his journey in half, at least. They went across the Fields of Solace, the Caverns of the Desolate, and the Plains of the Stinky. Stiles hoped none of those places would be renamed once the Princess was rescued.

Castle Blackheart was made of fortified obsidian and shaped like a valentine. Its architect was known for his artistic vision, not his ability to name things. It was secured with traps (Stiles didn’t understand how its traps got there, what with dragon’s tiny, itty bitty arms), and in its center tower rested Princess Allison, probably bored out of her mind or dead.

They managed to trot into the courtyard without difficulty, and Stiles took the lack of dismembered body parts as a good sign.

It really was a pretty castle. No wonder the dragon liked it. Stiles had two seconds to admire its decor, then Jackson squealed. He didn’t even know he ought to have screamed.

 

 

Scott told Allison to stop counting days long ago because it was disheartening. Instead they kept track of time by counting dismantled traps and unbound hexes. The only good thing about their mess was the princess had more armor and weaponry than she’d ever dreamed of. Her suitors liked to dress up. While she didn’t understand bringing their finest armor to ride into battle against dragon single-handed (those odds were just never good), she appreciated how much they could pilfer. Eventually, they started making traps of their own, and little hiding places, trying to make the best of all their free time.

It was one of these traps, a hidden, subtle thing that alerted her of an intruder, and she snuck through the castle with the stealth of a shadow. The donkey noticed her too late. Without even a helmet, its master never had a chance.

Allison checked the back of the adventurer’s head, hoping her sword handle hadn’t done any permanent damage. “It’s okay, Scott!” she called out, as the donkey heed and hawed. “I got him. You can come out now!”

It was just easier this way. Dragons could get hurt, too.

“I’m not sure you had to brain him.” Scott rumbled, slinking down around the tower. It had taken a long time to get used to being in such a huge body and he was proud to say he didn’t knock bits of the castle off anymore. Much. Hard scales caught the light as he slithered down the walls, bright iridescent green that shimmered in blues and golds when he moved. If he had to be some kind of fearsome “knight eating” dragon, at least he was a pretty one. Allison made sure to always point out that fact when Scott was feeling low.

“Would you rather have done glorious battle in the courtyard?” The princess snorted, sheathing her sword with practiced ease.

“I can scare away one guy on a donkey without fighting, Alli.” Scott huffed an annoyed smoke ring that settled around the courtyard as the woman waved it away irritably.

“And how long do you think it’s going to be until they send someone who’s actually competent enough to fight, Scott? They’re all here to try and kill you, they’re prepared to fight a dragon. They never see me coming. It’s the perfect strategy.”

“I can take care of myself.” The dragon bared fangs as long as Allison’s arm which still did little to impress her. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt either one of us, you can’t keep taking risks like this.”

“Does this guy look like a risk? Really, Scott?” She gestured to the prone figure and his panicking mount. Honestly, who brought a donkey to fight a dragon? At least most of the knights had a proper warhorse and everything. He didn’t even seem to have much on him that was shiny, she always tried to take a few souvenirs for Scott. He’d never admit it, too embarrassed, but Allison had seen him sneak away pretty things to horde. It was draconic instinct and he hated it, but she never made Scott feel bad about his need to keep everything important protected in a big pile. She did sometimes wonder if that included her.

“But if I scared him away, then he’d be AWAY, Allison. Where’s he going to go like this? What are we supposed to do with some unconscious knight?”

“Oh.” The princess looked down at the man at her feet like the thought had never occurred to her. “You could always eat him?”

“Allison!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” She said, not entirely kidding but it was worth a try. “We could… roll him off the cliff?”

“We’re not killing him.” The dragon rumbled, putting his considerably large foot down on the issue.

“We’re not keeping him!”

“Do you have a better idea? You’re the one who whacked the guy in the head without a plan. Look, we just need to wait until Kira gets back, right? Can’t we lock him up somewhere so he doesn’t get in the way? Then no one has to kill him.”

Allison glared at the beast, poking a finger at Scott’s snout. “Are you serious? You want us to lock up some strange knight for who knows how long?”

Scott gave the woman his best sad face which didn’t work so well when his face was as big as a cart, but Allison relented.

“Fine! I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

"Be glad I like you," she added in a huff that was all hot air, but in the second it took her to turn away, she could have sworn that she saw the corners of Scott’s mouth curve upwards. Finding the boy she loved had been a challenge. It was difficult to look beyond the sparkly scales, impressive fangs and dragon breath, but she found a way. They’d both been relieved when they found Scott could talk, and Allison sometimes found herself instigating conversations for the sake of hearing his voice. It was all that was left of his human form.

"Now help me lift him. I don’t think he’s a knight," she considered, rolling the adventurer on his back. He was heavier than he looked, all long limbs and pointy bits. The heavy shield on his back kept him from rolling over, like a gangly pale turtle, and Allison watched in morbid fascination as his steed ran into a wall in panic.  

The knights were usually more… knightly than this. Had this guy come all this way and really thought he’d stand any kind of chance? Allison should have let him just scare the would be hero away, it would have been a lot less complicated than trying to keep him hostage while they waited for their real rescue. Scott corralled the panicking donkey in the stables, carefully plucking its saddle from the animal’s back with delicate claws and making sure there was enough hay to keep it happy. It wasn’t the poor thing’s fault it had been dragged all the way up here and Scott wasn’t one to let an animal suffer.

He did pilfer the few coins the knight had brought with him, squirreling them away for later. Moving around the castle was a tight squeeze at best but he preferred it to the roomier caves beneath the castle where he kept his “horde” of shiny bits of metal and dented silver spoons that Allison never mentioned. Sleeping on top of a pile of treasures might appeal to his cursed nature, but cramming himself uncomfortably indoors was a human trait and there was so little else human left about him. Better to tie his tail in knots and get a crick in his back inside than risk sliding any further towards being a monster.

Scott couldn’t get in much farther than the dining hall, so they kept the not-knight in the kitchen pantry a corridor down, where the dragon could still shimmy his way in. They shared a couple of the traveler’s sweet stones. Dragons still loved candy.

"You can at least say you’ll eat him?" She tried again, after binding their prisoner’s legs and arms. Scott didn’t disagree so she counted it as a win.

Stiles woke wrapped in smell of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, and screamed. The dragon was _seasoning_ him.

 

The dragon winced as the screams echoed through the hallway. “We’re not going to just leave him in the pantry until Kira gets back, are we?”

“That was the plan.” Allison said, not really sympathetic to some uncoordinated oaf who’d come all this way to kill Scott and force her to obey him. “Why, think we should put him in the basement or something?”

“Allison, no.” He sighed in a plume of smoke, squeezing himself halfway down the hall and making a reach for the pantry doors. He managed to pull them open and hooked one claw beneath the ropes binding the human’s hands before dragging him out across the floor into the middle of the dining hall. “If you don’t stop screaming, I’m going to eat you.”

Allison gave Scott a thumbs up.

Stiles let out a strangled whimper, a perfectly respectable response to a dragon telling him to shut up. This was not the plan. This was so far off the plan, the plan refused to be associated with it under the same name. Stiles just - wasn’t very good at staying quiet for long.

"You’re Princess Allison!" He accused, and had his limbs been free, he would have aggressively pointed. "You just thumbed up the dragon!"

The talking dragon.

Stiles wanted to faint again, but he was terrified that would only encourage eating.

It was a testament to the quality of Allison’s suitors that Stiles was the first to notice anyway. It also explained why so many had only bothered to approach her after she’d been abducted, instead of perhaps, in the middle of court, where she could publicly shred them to little pieces.

"You’re very loud," Allison commented, and Stiles showed her. He screamed, “You’re working together!”

Stiles took that moment to reassess the last five minutes of his life, trying to ascertain that he hadn’t, in fact, dreamed everything up. It was all very disconcerting.

"I think I’m going to be sick," Stiles moaned. The dragon’s face was larger than his everything. On the plus side, if the princess hadn’t been working with it, he was totally confident he could sneak around it now.

“I still think you should eat him.”

“Allison. Can you maybe get him a glass of water or something? The guy looks like he’s about to pass out and if he’s sick in here, you know you’re the one who’ll be cleaning it up.” The dragon wiggled its enormous talons and Allison rolled her eyes.

“You’re not going to be sick.” She said in her best princess voice that left no room to argue as if sheer force of will was enough to prevent biological reactions.

Scott lowered his head to look at the young man from one yellow eye large enough for Stiles to see his reflection in the slit pupil. “You really should stop screaming. Of course we’re working together, we’re friends.”

“He’s my ex, actually.”

“Allison!” Scott didn’t want to talk about his human life with a complete stranger, especially with one that had come all the way here to try and kill him. They had no reason to trust him and the knight certainly didn’t need to know any of their personal information. It was humiliating enough to be this thing, if people knew who he really was, he couldn’t imagine the shame he’d bring on his entire kingdom. For all he knew, his parents thought he was already dead. “She’s kidding.” He said dryly. “I’m a dragon.”

The princess shrugged and sat cross-legged on the floor to get a better look at their captive. “You’re not much like the other knights that make it all the way here. They’re usually… oh, what’s the word. Fit?” The dragon rumbled like it was laughing and Allison suppressed a smirk. “Though I’m sure you probably have your merits. At least you’re brave enough, or maybe you’re an idiot to have come all this way. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

Stiles would totally have socked the dragon in the face if it wasn’t a dragon. Maybe he could throw himself at its eye, and woah, in the stories, defeating majestic beasts was always a lot less gross (and terrifying).

"Most princesses in towers aren’t conspiring with their dragons!" Stiles accused, and the moral high ground wasn’t a great place to be when he was bound and ready for barbecue. He didn’t have much to back up that claim anyway. He’d never met another princess with a dragon. Maybe they were dating. They did absolutely nothing to quell his curiosity. "Besides," he defended. "What idiot actually plans on taking a dragon head on. Have you seen you?"

“No, they don’t make mirrors this big.” The dragon snarked, retreating back to wrap the length of its body around the edges of the room. It laid its head on its claws, the tip of the long spiked tail twitching.

Stiles ignored him and tried to swivel towards Allison. He needed his arms back ASAP. Talking without them was so difficult. “Why don’t you just leave? What are you playing at? Seriously, who hangs out in old abandoned castles? I’m sure you’ve got - princess-y things to do.”

Allison put her hands on her hips, resisting the urge to put a boot in the stranger’s face. “I have plenty of princess-y things to do, thank you very much. We can’t leave or we would have already, are you simple? It’s a curse! If I could rescue myself, and trust me, I am more than capable of rescuing myself, I would have left ages ago instead of waiting for one of you pathetic losers showing up with your slapped on masculinity and annoying posturing to ‘save’ me. I’m not helpless, I’m stuck.”

“She can’t leave unless someone kills me.” The dragon said matter-of-factly and Allison had the good grace to pause, face scrunched in concern.

“I’m not letting that happen, we’re going to find a way to break the curse without killing anyone. And then I’m going to put an arrow through my grandfather’s eye.”

Scott sighed, but didn’t argue. There was only so much he could do and keeping Allison from stabbing their accidental captive was just about her limit.

Stiles had never been accused of being tactful, but he knew enough to not suggest killing the giant fire-breathing monster. He watched with unabashed interest, like he could get in their heads. Beyond accepting that one or both of them wouldn’t have mind cutting out his tongue, he didn’t know much else.

Allison might as well have slapped him. Her words broke his brain. “Your grandfather? King Gerard?” Stiles briefly considered rebellion as the reason they were both cursed, but that didn’t exactly fit. “Dude, but why? All of Fedelren’s in mourning. They’ve got temples set up to pray for your safe return… Princess Victoria - passed away with grief. It’s, they really want you back.”

Allison’s expression had gone stony, her back ramrod straight, and all the color drained from her features. Her voice barely rose above a whisper, vicious and brutal but achingly raw. “My mother would never.”

She barely cut herself off, forcing out each labored breath. Grief? Not Princess Victoria. Allison wouldn’t believe it, she refused. Passed away trying to find the truth, though, that she could accept.

The adventurer quieted, and it was pretty impressive that this was the first time he felt regret on his journey. “I’m sorry-” He started. Allison didn’t need his apologies. She needed her grandfather’s head.

"Gerard is a monster and a heretic." She answered, words lined with steel. "He’s become greedy with power, and he will pay for everything he’s done."

Scott shifted closer, knowing Allison well enough that beneath the strength and the rage was a heartbroken girl who had just found out she’d lost her mother. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Gerard had something to do with her passing, the Argent women were warriors and would never give up on Allison without a fight. Gerard was just ruthless enough to murder his own family if it meant keeping his grip on the kingdom.

“Sc-…Dragon, keep an eye on our ‘guest.’ I need a few minutes.” She swept from the hall, refusing to show weakness even in front of someone she loved. Grief was a private thing and Allison hated being vulnerable though Scott had never thought pain and love made anyone weak. He watched her go sadly, curling tighter around the hall and wishing she’d let someone help her. There wasn’t much comfort he could give with claws.

“It’s complicated.” The creature said finally. “Being here, it’s taking a toll on her.” Scott studied the man before coming to a decision. “Don’t run, okay? And no more screaming or I really will eat you. Probably.” He extended one talon carefully and hooked the very tip in the ropes binding Stiles’s hands and severed the strands with a quick tug. “We can’t really have you leaving and spreading any rumors, not when we’re so close and I don’t think we’re going to be able to keep you tied up for the next several months so…please just try and behave. Do you have a name or am I going to think of some kind of nickname for you?”

Stiles watched the princess walk away, and he could see now why so many in Fedelren had hoped Allison would take the throne.

"I’m sorry, dude," he said. He meant it. It hadn’t been his place to break the news, and losing a mother was never easy to hear. The adventurer found himself reaching out before he managed to catch himself, meaning to pet the dragon before he realized he wanted to pet the dragon. Seriously, Stiles might not have been the most in tune with his surroundings, but he could wager that offering his hand to those teeth would not end well.

"For the record - again - I never wanted to kill you. More like, sneak around you, but no hard feelings?" He offered, getting to wobbly feet and shaking out his limbs. Forcing a smile that was just on the edge of careful, not entirely over the fact that he was talking to a dragon, Stiles added, "And if you make up a nickname for me, I totally get to make one up for you."

“I guess that’s fair. And for the same record, I don’t actually eat people. I’m not big on the whole killing people in general thing, I definitely wouldn’t chew and swallow. That just sounds super gross. I’d rather have like…soup. Or, cake.” The dragon sounded almost wistful, dreaming of foods he couldn’t eat. Thankfully he didn’t need to eat often and he could hunt the hills around the castle without straying too far. Whatever enchantment kept the pantries stocked in the castle weren’t really set up for dragon sized appetites. “I get it, dragons are scary.”

The beast laid its head closer, snout only a few feet away from the human and if it wasn’t so difficult to tell on his draconian head, it almost looked like he was smiling. “So what should we call you? Freckles? Fainty? Big Mouth?” The dragon chuckled at itself, blowing a ring of smoke around Stiles and watching the cloud settle around the man’s feet. “I’m just Dragon, you can call me that. I don’t really have a name anymore. Or you could always go with Fluffy?”

The dragon did not look like any Fluffy Stiles had ever met. He looked like he’d eaten several Fluffies, but that was neither here nor there.

This was doing the opposite of intimidating Stiles. Then again, he’d seen houses smaller than the dragon. Intimidation was not its problem, and if it wanted to redeem scary points, they would be available for the taking. Stiles still squirmed closer, taking a seat in front of one brilliant golden eye. He didn’t have better judgment to refer to, and petting the dragon still seemed like it would totally be the best thing ever.

"You’re not scary. You’re just obnoxious," Stiles beamed only to succumb to a coughing fit, scowling from behind a ring of ash. He still managed a huffy scowl, crossing his arms over his chest dramatically as he went splotchy with embarrassment. "And I did not faint. I was ambushed - Scalebutt."

“I’m not obnoxious! I’m actually the nice one, she’s the one who wanted me to eat you or throw you off a cliff. You’d still be locked in the pantry for the next few months without me.” The tip of the dragon’s tail snaked around and shoved Stiles in the shoulder as he rumbled in amusement. “You totally fainted and your ‘noble steed’ ran into a wall. You really thought you were going to just waltz in here on that thing and actually get away with Allison? I always thought the knights that came up here were delusional, but you’re sort of in a league all by yourself, dude.”

That begged the question, “Hey, whoever made you cake?”

Scott rolled his considerable eyes, poking Stiles with his tail again. “I’ve had a lot of things, don’t be so nosy.” Let the guy think there was some sort of giant magical dragon oven, he didn’t want to explain what had happened. Not until he was sure he could trust the knight or whoever he turned out to be. “I’m sorry we’re going to have to keep you, but it’s not too terrible here and no matter what Allison says, she could use the company. You just need to be nice to her.”

Stiles gasped in annoyance that wasn’t entirely annoyed. There was a legit dragon tail poking at his shoulder, and he was talking to a legit dragon! He’d be seriously disappointed if he found out that Scalebutt was powered by tiny elves or something. No one ever mentioned that dragons were so polite. Then again, that would probably put a damper on most stories.

"Watch it," he grumbled, swiping at Scalebutt’s tail with unashamed fascination. What was the dragon going to do? Eat him? They already established they were going to keep him, and after his journey, Stiles wouldn’t be averse to a day’s rest.

"And you know what? Jackson was not anyone’s noble steed. He’s supposed to be your dinner. I was totally prepared for out-sneaking a dragon. Princess Allison is not a dragon."

Which probably put a damper on their relationship. Stiles was very good at making things very awkward, very fast. The jury was still out on the ‘nice’ part. If Stiles wanted to make up for the news of Princess Victoria, that was his business.

Scott made a face, a legitimate grossed-out face that wasn’t made for a snout. “You wanted me to eat your ass?” He laughed, a very human sound through a mouth full of enormous fangs. “Sorry Fainty, that just isn’t my type. I like my meat a little bit more… cow. I could go for sheep or deer if I had to. I’ve never actually eaten a donkey before, just because I’m a dragon doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of taste. I’m not going to eat every animal you throw at me, that’s just rude and prejudiced.”

It was nice to be able to talk to someone new, he’d almost forgotten how to interact with other humans. How long had they been locked up in this tower? All the days were starting to blend together and he just couldn’t tell anymore. Months…years? He loved Allison, but they sometimes spent days apart with her up in her room where he couldn’t go. “He’s outside, you know. I put him in the stables and made sure he was taken care of if you wanted to visit him or something. I didn’t know if he was some beloved family donkey.”

Stiles howled. He doubled over like he’d been stabbed, grabbing unto Scalebutt’s tail to steady himself, shoulders shaking. One day he would write a strongly worded letter to all the jerks who tried to kill dragons before asking their opinions on culinary delights. “Oh God no, that dumb ass is still alive!”

Scott eventually rolled the traveler into a corner, to save him from himself.

 

 


	2. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of Dragons)

That night, Stiles dreamed of a cloudless sky and a warm breeze. He dreamed of gentle hands with calloused fingers, and a twitchy little laugh that he promised himself he’d never forget (except he had forgotten, he was sorry, he was so sorry).

"Look! Look what I can do! Dorkface, look!" Someone was tugging on his shirt, and there was a kite in the sky, the largest kite Stiles had ever seen, dipping and riding the wind. In the corner of his vision, he could see a face, bright-eyed and wicked, with the kindest smile he would ever know. Stiles knew he’d chase that smile for the rest of his life.

 

 


	3. Puff

"Are you sure about him?" Allison asked, open with her disapproval, but she respected Scott’s opinion. He was just as much of a prisoner as she was, and he arguably had more at stake.

Spread out between them, in a large hall that would have once been used to entertain guests, was a scale model of the Argent Citadel, made of rock and wood. All their hard work was coming to a close. When Kira came back, she’d have the final piece, and then - Allison forced herself to think in terms of strategies and objectives, not the goal she so desperately wanted to lose her thoughts in.

"He’ll be fine." Scott promised. "So will we."

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat him?”

Scott thwacked her butt with his tail, and Allison couldn’t not laugh. She wasn’t laughing in the morning though.

 

  
  


Stiles woke with a shriek has a flour beetle tried to crawl into his ear. If there had been anyone sleeping, he would have woken the whole castle. He was very tired of being disturbed by terrifying things that were not trying to eat him.

"This can’t be your room," Allison said, coming back from her morning jog and unapologetically disappointed that Stiles was still by the pantry when she returned.

"Hey, do you think I could make Scalebutt a cake, like where do these ingredients come from?" Stiles answered. He’d killed the beetle. Everything was right with the world. The princess’s mouth twitched, and Stiles remembered that she’d given her castle-mate the exceptionally creative and original name of ‘Dragon.’

Stiles suspected that he wasn’t making the greatest of impressions. It was probably safer to not be where she was.

Allison didn’t trust the pale, awkward ‘knight,’ which was probably the smart decision. After everything that had happened and betrayal by her own family, it was hard to trust anyone again. Scott thought he should try to learn that skill from her, but he never seemed to manage. Maybe it was his own curiosity that got the better of him or his loneliness. Maybe it was some part of his dragon nature to want to collect things that caught his eye, it was getting hard to tell the difference these days. No one who faced down a dragon with an overladen donkey and the most infectious laughter could possibly be that dangerous. She’d given Scott a look that clearly said the man was his responsibility like some kind of unwanted pet.

If Scott wanted to keep him, she wasn’t going to argue. His bleeding heart was one of the things she’d always loved about him, it was now ten times the size. It was sweet, she just hoped it wasn’t going to get Scott killed one of these days.

As soon as the sun was up, the dragon slunk out of the castle, digging his claws into the stone walls and stretching his cramped wings. They should have been the best part of this, but he couldn’t do more but hover around the lands by the castle. It would have been amazing to see how far above the earth he could go or how fast or how far, but the bond that kept him tied to Allison also kept him tied to the ground. He’d love to fly just once, really fly.

He was getting better at this control thing, learning how to maneuver a new giant body was bound to run into a few kinks. The tail was the hardest part, he spent the weeks accidentally knocking over walls and smacking himself in the face. He wondered if other dragons went through so much trouble. He’d gotten better and could start repairing some of the damage, the inhuman strength was one benefit that didn’t seem so terrible. The beast stacked giant stones in front of the broken section of wall, doing his best to close the gap. This castle might be their prison, but it was also their sanctuary. If someone got their act together and sent an entire army to rescue the princess, they’d both be in a lot of trouble. Better to be as prepared as possible for anything, Scott didn’t think Gerard would forget that Allison was still a threat to him.

"Scalebutt!" Stiles called out, jogging out of the castle. "Scalebutt down here!"

“Hm?” The dragon rumbled, scales shining in the sun as he settled himself back into the courtyard and lowered his head to blink at the tiny human. “What are you yelling about this time, Fainty?”

"Hey…" Stiles started, but forgot his words before they could tumble out of his mouth. He reached up to stroke down the dragon’s long snout, forgetting in that moment, how close he was to nightmarish fangs. The traveler’s eyes had widened to the size of fresh buns. In the bright light of day, Scalebutt looked like he was made of sleek, scoured jewels that seemed to each glow with their own radiance, and they were so cool under his palm, he wondered if he was running a fever. "Woah."

Dragons, man, who ever wanted to kill dragons? His palm slowed as he stroked lower, just below the dragon’s magnificent eye and across his jaw.

Scott held perfectly still, not wanting to scare the human. The touch was so light he could barely feel the man’s hand on his scales, but it was nice to feel something. Allison was the only one who ever touched him like this, no one else would have dared. He finally flinched away, a giant monster uncomfortable with something so gentle in case he accidentally ruined it. Squishing the knight would be the absolute worst way to start a friendship. He tried to cover up his awkwardness, though an awkward dragon was an impressive thing to see. Scott curled himself in knots, not too far away to look like he was retreating but not close enough to hurt Stiles.

"I didn’t faint," Stiles pointed out belatedly, smile lopsided and without any real heat. In his story, he didn’t, and he was pretty sure no one would believe a dragon over him because his audience would be busy running for their lives if Scalebutt tried his hand at storytelling.

The dragon wanted space. Stiles didn’t get the memo. For every squirmy wiggle Scalebutt took, the noble took fifteen so he could get closer, only suspecting that it might not have been a great idea when the beast spoke and warm air left his shirt billowing. "I was just… Getting bored. Princess Allison kicked me out of the kitchen.”

“You have the whole castle to explore, you don’t need to stay in the kitchens. There’s more bedrooms than we need, it’s not like I can make it up the stairs anyways. You should pick a wing for yourself and make yourself comfortable. How often do you get your very own enchanted castle, right?” Scott winked one yellow eye and flicked his forked tongue. “And you fainted a little.”

“Rude. To think I chose to talk to you over Jackson. You’re a better conversationalist, but not by much.” Stiles huffed, but grinned. “What’s your story, Scalebutt?"

This odd little man was honestly trying to get to know him? He was full of surprises. “Not much of a story. Cursed dragon, cursed castle, cursed princess, I’m sure things like this must happen to people all the time.” He joked, sighing as the human didn’t seem to find that funny. “I’m just trapped the same as Allison is, though the only way I’m supposed to break my curse is at the point of a sword. I just want to go home again, but I don’t know if that’s possible. Even if Kira manages to unbind us, I’ve changed a lot since I’ve been gone. I doubt anyone would ever recognize me like this.”

"That sucked, try again," he admonished, scrambling like a lanky monkey up one of the stone heaps so he could perch at Scott’s eye-level. Stiles smacked the dragon on the snout, and immediately regretted it. If Scalebutt sneezed on him, he would never survive, and no one would be able to learn of his fantastic death (it wasn’t the sort of glorious victory he imagined the dragon would be proud of). "Like - Princess Allison, I can get, but why you? Were you the only dragon around when the King was casting his spell? Where do kings learn shit like that, seriously, and who’s Kira? Wait, if the castle’s cursed, does it talk too?"

“The castle doesn’t talk.” Scott paused, swinging his head up to look at the tower. “I don’t think it talks? It’s never talked to me before and I do a lot of talking to myself. You’d think it would have said something back by now.” The dragon snorted, shocked to be smacked on the nose and staring at the man in disbelief. For someone who spent most of their first meeting either screaming himself hoarse or unconscious, Fainty was acting a whole lot braver all of a sudden.

"It probably doesn’t talk. If I was a magic castle, I’d totally want to talk to a dragon," Stiles reassured Scalebutt. The dragon managed a toothy grin before going back to his story.

“Yeah, I was the only dragon around. I don’t know, all the kings I’ve ever met have been kind of shitty to tell you the truth. If there was some secret mage-king club, it wasn’t anything I’ve ever heard about.” His father hadn’t been around enough share that kind of knowledge anyways. The only thing King Rafael had stayed long enough to pass down was a sense of never being good enough. He had liked the power but not the responsibility and since the Delgado line was through his mother, she held the right to rule. The king stayed in one of their countryside estates and rarely bothered to visit the court which was fine for everyone. “Kira’s the one who’s going to save us. She’s going to find a way to break the bond between Allison and me so she can leave. If you were hoping to win Allison’s heart, I think you’re a little late for that one. Sorry.”

Stiles listened, unabashedly fascinated, as he swung his feet back and forth, elbows resting on his knees. The idea smacked him upside the head, and he held himself like he was preparing for a storm, hunkering low to mimic a battering ram as best he could. It wasn’t a very good imitation. Softer, more careful, he added, “Do you miss your family?”

Scott snaked his tail around the pile of rocks like he was hording the entire thing, settling more comfortable against the broken wall of the castle. “I miss my mom. I miss a lot of things.” Hands. Straws. Chocolate. People not running in terror every time he went somewhere. “Stuff like Allison disappearing must happen all the time, right? There must be some kind of royalty-napping problem. Is she the only one?” He asked way too nonchalantly. If there were temples dedicated to Allison’s safe return, were there people who missed him too? Or did they think he was killed in the “dragon” attack that stole Allison?

Stiles froze as his stone perch jerked, quietly reassessing everything as a bad idea, before the dragon didn’t (did not did NOT) set him on fire. It was a good feeling to not be on fire. Stiles appreciated it very much. He just wished the dragon didn’t sound incredibly lonely.

Stiles considered what he knew of monster attacks, but most of the genuine stories were few and far between. There were far more knights looking for a hero’s glory than dragons who kidnapped nobles; this entire experience shed light into that rumor. It was still pretty glum.

Stiles made a mistake. He made a promise he didn’t know he wanted to keep. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll clear your name. Once Allison’s back on the throne, news will spread that dragons aren’t really into that royalty-napping stuff. And it would… Kinda be a dick move to try and get Allison’s heart out of all this, don’t you think?”

His shoulders slumped, and Stiles was well-aware that he was making himself out like some sort of saint, and the dragon’s unimpressed stare said enough. “Well, like, of course I was gonna ask for shit if this worked out, but I don’t want her land or marriage or anything. I just want a title.”

“I think both Kira and Allison would kick your ass if you tried to get her heart now, and I don’t mean your donkey.” Scott said with a laugh. “You really went through all this trouble for a title? You could have died! I could have been some sort of man-eating evil dragon who really did steal a princess, that’s a whole lot of risk for a little status.” Reckless, that was the only way to describe Fainty. That or crazy, but he didn’t seem like he was purposely suicidal and he hadn’t tried to run anybody through like most of the macho types. It was a nice change of pace. “I’m not sure even Allison could convince people that dragons aren’t the bad guys. I’ll bet I’m pretty fearsome looking, right? Big fangs and claws and you haven’t even seen me breath fire yet. I’m getting pretty good at it! I haven’t set the curtains on fire in months.”

It was a big accomplishment, Scott was proud. The first months of his transformation had been absolutely dreadful, he thought he’d never be able to take two steps without breaking something or accidentally hooking his tail around a sharp claw or biting his own long forked tongue. When a case of the hiccups came with flames, he knew he was in real trouble.

Every inch of the dragon’s not inconsiderable frame trembled when he laughed, making light dance of his scales, and Stiles swore he saw every color of the rainbow. He beamed, incredibly pleased with himself for making Scalebutt laugh, and there was something about that laugh, something that warmed him all the way to his toes the same way a face full of fire would but with less charred tissue and pain.

"DUDE! Okay, so maybe the castle does talk, but doesn’t want to. I wouldn’t talk to you if you set my drapes on fire.” Stiles laughed with him, losing it at charred curtains. He flailed impressively, grabbing Scalebutt’s tail to keep himself from flailing off his rock pile, but settling back into place was a victory worth savoring. “Your scaly butt may be super badass, but why would a dragon even want a princess? If you guys were hungry, it’d be a lot easier to grab cows! You wouldn’t bother eating men.”

Stiles asked the hard questions. He nodded sagely.

“I didn’t mean to set the curtains on fire!” Scott would have pouted if he could have made his snout scrunch like that. A dragon’s face just wasn’t made for human expressions. He carefully wrapped his tail around Stiles’s waist to keep him from slipping from the rocks, looping the narrowest tip around the human’s feet. “If anyone tried to eat Allison, she’d shoot you full of arrows and stab you all the way down. I can’t even imagine why someone would try. Cows are much better, though trying to eat them whole takes a little getting used to. At least I can roast them myself, which is nice. Sheep get stuck in my throat, you ever try swallowing something that’s basically one filthy hairball? They’re so gross. Deer are really nice, but they’re usually too fast for me. I need something slow and stupid, I’m not great at the whole hunting thing.” Deer were a rare delicacy when he could manage to catch one which usually happened by accident. Sneezing into the woods and finding a nice big buck already cooked was just about his level of skill. “I honestly would just rather have a salad some days. Is that weird?” It was probably weird.

"What about fish? I can do fish. Gimme a chance to find a bait pole. I can do hunting s’long as it’s sitting in one place and waiting for food to come to me." Stiles offered, petting the beast’s tail in approval.

It was so difficult not to take advantage of being allowed to live, and that made following their story all the easier. Scalebutt didn’t want to kill him, and if he liked Princess Allison, Stiles couldn’t see any reason to want to take King Gerard’s word as truth. They gained nothing from convincing him, for all that the Stilinskis were stable they were just… Stilinskis, not exactly a major political players in Fedelren. Also Scalebutt didn’t want to eat him. Seriously.

“I like fish! There’s a lake that’s really close, we can reach the edge of it but we can’t really go a whole lot further. I can take you there sometime, maybe there’ll be some kind of fishing poles in the castle somewhere. There’s about a million closets, I have no idea what’s in any of them.” They’d have to catch a lot of fish to be able to take the edge off his hunger, but maybe he could scare them towards shore or something. That might be fun, there weren’t enough things to do around the castle that were fun. Most days Allison would practice with her weapons while Scott practiced not elbowing the castle down around their ears. There was a library he never reached, but the princess would pick out books and read them to him since his claws were too big to turn the pages. Usually they just planned how to break the curse and take back her kingdom, though lately a lot of the talk had turned to how nice Kira’s hair looked or how amazing Kira was when they sparred. Scott was a little jealous, still a bit in love with Allison though they’d long ago decided to just be friends. If Gerard had only wanted to keep Allison from marrying him, all he had to do was wait instead of turning to this extreme.

Scott cleared his throat with a considerable rumble. “Allison’s really nice even though she’s tough as nails. If you help her out until Kira gets back, she might actually give you that title you want so much. Did you come all the way from her kingdom?”

"You know, it’s not - it’s not just a title, Scalebutt,” Stiles insisted. He chuckled wryly, figuring that if he was going to be laughed at, it might as well be by something that looked so awesome while doing it. “It’s - sometimes some humans only talk to other humans if they have titles. I really want to talk to someone.”

The not-Knight shrugged, knocking his heels against his stone roost. “I’m kind of Allison’s neighbor. We’re to the east.”

“Why wouldn’t someone want to talk to you just because you didn’t have a title? That’s so stupid.” It sounded a lot like Scott’s father, so caught up with the protocols for being royalty that he never actually ruled. “If someone is that hung up on status, maybe you shouldn’t care so much about talking to them anyways. It certainly doesn’t sound like they’d be important enough to risk your life for, Fainty.” East of the Argent’s kingdom, hm? Ugh, he should be better at this, why didn’t he pay more attention to his tutors? “I used to live in the North.”

Stiles expression softened with unrepentant affection, and they were silly memories of a wee child who thought the world was so large, but he could never forget what it had been like to have someone explore that wide, wide world with him, turning it into their playground and giving it economically-packaged hell. To hear that Prince Scott’s northern kingdom also had dragons? Stiles whistled long and low. “He’s not like that, s’more like - the people around him? I guess.” He hoped. “But if Princess Allison gives me a title, he’d totally come with us when we take you home. He’d love to see the dragons! He’s worth it, Scalebutt. He’s so worth it.”

“He doesn’t sound too bad then, though he should probably get some better people around him.” The dragon hesitated, a slight trail of smoke curling from his nostrils. “I’m not sure I’d be able to go home again. If they break the curse for Allison and she’s able to leave, I’ll still be a-…a lot has changed. They probably think I’m dead at this point. Maybe I’ll just go somewhere else, I’m not really sure what sort of places are good for dragons.”

"Hey…" Stiles’ expression twisted unhappily, and he wished he was callous enough to ignore the dragon’s sadness. It would make his stomach stop flopping probably, and keep him from doing dangerous things - like reaching out to pet Scalebutt’s snout. "We’re going to get you home. Between you and Allison and Kira, there’s no way you can fail."

It didn’t matter that he’d never met Kira. If Scalebutt spoke so highly of her, Stiles wanted to expect the best.

“You’re right.” Scott wasn’t going to give up, his mother always said he could find hope in the worst situations and this definitely qualified. “Hey, all this talk about eating things is making me super hungry. Do you think if I show you where things are in the kitchen, you could make me like ten sandwiches? Or maybe just one really really big one? That would be really awesome, I’ll promise never to make jokes about eating you ever again. Probably.” Scott gave an enormous toothy grin and Stiles almost believed him.

 

 

"I heard you laughing today," Allison said later, after the sun had set and they’d seen their stray into the west wing. "It’s been a while."

“He’s a nice guy.” The dragon said as softly as he could manage. “I think I’ve forgotten how to have a normal conversation with people.

“I don’t count?”

“I think we’ve been stuck here so long that there’s nothing normal about us anymore, Allison.”

The princess laughed and rubbed the dragon on his snout. “I’m just glad to hear it again. I know this has been really hard on you, Scott and-“

“Stop.” The creature pulled back awkwardly. “It’s hard on both of us, but we’ll manage. We’re going to be okay, but this isn’t about just me. I’m fine, I’m better at it now. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Allison’s lips thinned in disbelief, but she didn’t argue. There wasn’t anything to be gained by pointing out the lies and if Scott was trying so hard to accept what had happened, she wouldn’t stand in the way. He’d been happy today, that was progress. Sometimes that’s all you could hope for. “Do you think he’s going to be any trouble?”

“Oh definitely, but not on purpose. I don’t think he’s malicious, he said he was trying to win some kind of title so he could convince someone he knew to talk to him. That’s a little strange, but there wasn’t anything in there about stealing you away and forcing you to marry him.”

“Not like he could.” She snorted at the thought of the uncoordinated young man posing any kind of physical threat. “I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on him until Kira gets back. Hopefully that’ll be soon.”

Scott smiled at the way Allison’s voice softened over Kira’s name. Even if it did hurt, there was no way he could begrudge anyone finding someone they loved and it was nice to know that there was a person out there special to Allison who could inspire so much hope. “I’ll watch him, it’ll be fine. Just go to sleep, it’s starting to get late.”

“Are you going to be in the hall tonight?”

The dragon shook its head but didn’t elaborate and the princess watched him slink from the castle, scaling its steep walls like a lizard and disappearing in the warren of caves beneath where she never visited. He couldn’t explore the castle and she left him alone in his caves, they both needed that quiet place for a little solitude. Scott stretched out in the large space where he stashed his hoard, curling his entire body around the pile of polished armor scraps and pretty bits of fabric he’d stolen through the castle windows. It wasn’t some collection of gold and precious gems, but it had a comforting homey quality to it, if a little embarrassing. He dropped the coins he’d stolen from Stiles into the pile, resting his chin over them like he was claiming them and tucking his nose beneath the tip of his tail to sleep.

 

 


	4. Fangs for the Memories

It was the same clear blue sky, broken only by that fantastic kite with its billowing tail, and the same boy with the sunshine smile. Except this time they were a hundred miles from the ground, or so it felt. Stiles recognized the bright red roof they perched on, a top the barn of a Stilinski farm, the hiding place his parents and their servants pretended not to know of. Only this time, he knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.

"Your name isn’t Stiles," the brilliant boy laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. Stiles oofed in pain, but didn’t stop his assault, trying to scramble all over the boy to grab at his prize. Stiles didn’t know what his friend held, but he didn’t have it so he fought tooth and nail for victory.

"You couldn’t say my name. It’s special!" Stiles whined, only to get a smack to the mouth that squawking didn’t stop.

"Grzegorz!" Howled the boy, laughing so hard at Stiles’s gobsmacked face. He dangled his toy above Stiles’s nose, bragging, "I practiced every day for two months so I could say it when you came back… You didn’t come back."

The sky dimmed and Stiles quit fighting, instead he closed his hand around his friend’s wrist and inched as close as he dared.

"I’m sorry, Scott."

"I know. It’s not your fault."

The wind roared like a beast and their kite dipped and soared. Stiles wouldn’t let go. He never let go.

"I like you like this," Stiles said shyly. "Less scruffy. When can I see you again?"

“M’not scruffy, you’re scruffy.” Scott argued automatically, leaning closer as the wind whipped through his hair. “Soon? Can it be soon? I miss you.”

“I hope so. Do you think we could train birds to carry messages back and forth? I can write you letters that way.”

The dark haired boy laughed and clapped his hands, delighted. “Birds! They’d have to be big birds to fly so far. We’ll have to train eagles, it’ll be awesome. We’ll have to raise them from when they’re little and figure out how to teach them where to go? Do you think birds can read maps?”

Stiles elbowed his friend back, returning the earlier attack. “I don’t think birds can read at all.”

“Oh.” The prince was quiet, watching the kite dip and soar in the wind, fighting to get away. A storm was coming, the temperature dropping sharply enough that he shivered and the sky took on a strange glow behind the gathering clouds. “Maybe we should learn how to fly.”

“Birds can’t read and people can’t fly.”

“How do you know, have you ever tried?” Scott’s grin was sharp and challenging, daring the world to stop him now that he’d set his mind to something. He tugged on Stiles’s arm, dragging his friend to his feet and over to the edge of the roof, peeking over to look at the ground millions of miles away. “You’re never going to know unless you jump, Stiles.”

"Scott." Something new whispered through Stiles’s thoughts, something cold and unwelcome. Fear should not have a place where everything felt so right. Stiles stumbled over the tiles, uncertainty twisting his features.

"I think I should fly." The prince answered, voice softened, and for a moment, it was as if he looked through Stiles. "I should know how to fly, but all I can do is hover. I could have taken us away from all this. It’s been so long."

"Scott what are you-!?"

But the boy with a sunshine smile took a step backwards, tipping over the ledge of the barn without so much as a warning. A scream pierced the air, ripping it in two. Scott hadn’t made a sound, but Stiles was terrified as he jumped after him. He remembered the wind rushing through his ears, stealing away his voice, Scott’s warm brown eyes wide with worry, and how the ground never seemed to come. There was no need for explanations. If Scott fell, Stiles would fall with him.

Stiles woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat and fighting his way through cotton sheets. He was in a bed that felt like it was made of clouds and not entirely convinced he’d stopped falling. The castle was as quiet as the grave, and the canopy above his bed held no answers. He still stared.

It had been a long time since he thought about Queen Melissa, with her dark curls and warm doe eyes, the same ones her son had inherited. They would probably be more pronounced now, and his images danced just out of Stiles’s reach about a phantom smile and gentle hands. The Delgado lands were among the most prosperous in Fedelren, the only true contenders to Argent superiority, and Stiles knew he had no chance with their crown prince, even with Allison’s generosity. He knew that. Yet being on his quest had never felt wrong, and right now, Stiles didn’t think there was anywhere in all the world that he’d rather be.

The princess must have hit him harder than he thought.

Stiles didn’t think he could leave. It was a little too late for self-preservation now.

In the caverns under the palace, a dragon dreamt of falling.

 

 


	5. The Dragon Slayer

The castle was a nest of enchantment and intrigue, and Stiles could spend his whole life exploring it. He made a game out of finding the shiniest things he could and chucking them at Scalebutt’s head, from sparkling baubles and decorative swords to old lamps and pretty shoes. He missed half of all his shots, but for a dragon, Scalebutt had a really small head. Stiles marveled at how the kitchen restocked itself and clean water appeared where they had no wells, and he spent two nights trying to get a chalice to duplicate itself. Allison took pity on him, and told him how their enchantress friend Kira undid the castle’s original hexes, tapping into its reservoir of magic to guarantee they would never go hungry. Covering the chalice in jam only made twice the jam appear. Allison made him clean it all up.

(That was their first civil conversation. Their second involved archery, a challenging topic when the princess was one of Fedelren’s most skilled archers and Stiles could only mostly tell the difference between a bow and an arrow. Allison forbid him from ever holding a crossbow, but she did let him keep a feathery hat.)

It took him three days to find a bait rod, and from an unspoiled lake filled with unsuspecting prey, they should have dined like royalty. Scalebutt tried to fly across the lake to roar fish into submission and nearly drowned. Stiles laughed until a trout slapped him in the face. Allison brought home a wild boar to roast.

The dreams didn’t stop. Stiles was greeted by the boy with the sunshine smile every night, his imagination’s rendering of prince charming, and every morning Stiles tried to remember more and more.

Jackson got round. He was still an ass.

Scott hadn’t meant to get so comfortable with the stranger, they had to be so guarded all the time and it had been so long since they could trust. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to let someone into their lives or how good it felt to just be happy. There were entire days at a time when he forgot he was cursed, laughing until his stomach hurt, with the word ‘friend’ slipping into his internal monologue before he could reconsider. The human was a funny thing, open and awkward and though Scott looked as hard as he could, he couldn’t find any ulterior motives in Fainty. He’d come chasing some dream, so foolish and completely unprepared, but it made Scott smile that he’d believed in something so much to take the risk.

The man brought him things from the castle he’d never seen before and Scott didn’t feel so terrible about dragging some of them to his secret stash in the caves. It was still an embarrassing habit, but his sad little hoard looked almost like a proper pile of treasure these days. He curled himself around it and slept easier, at least until the dreams started. It had been a long time since Scott thought about the boy with the wild hair and the amber brown eyes who’d bullied himself into his life. Stiles had been the only one who’d ever tried to be his friend growing up and for a quiet, lonely boy, that had meant everything. He’d promised to return and the Prince waited patiently for months for any sign of him. His father had dismissed him impatiently with little explanation and the chamberlain had turned up his nose at the mention of the Stilinskis, but Scott didn’t stop hoping. He would sit at the top of their ruined east tower and wait, watching the roads for any sign of travelers from so far away, but they never came. Over the years, he’d climb to the top less and less until he finally stopped. He let go of that hope and the boy who came with it and looked forward to Allison and the crown until that blew up in his face too.

But every once in a while he’d wonder what ever happened to his first friend.

The dreams caught him unaware, shocked that they’d come back so strong now after so long. Maybe he was just so lonely now that his mind went back to when he was happiest. It was always jarring to wake and have to relearn that his hands had become claws and that both boys didn’t exist anymore. Scott never said a word about it to anyone.

The dragon focused on the daylight hours, stretched out to sun himself by the lake after their failed attempt at scaring fish into their bellies until his scales glittered in viridian limned in gold in the light. He convinced Fainty to sneak him treats and even made sure the stubborn donkey was well taken care of, though the smelly beast panicked every time Scott came near him.

They rebuilt their lives around one another, cautiously redrawing boundaries until the South Wing was unquestionably Stiles’s. The war room, in all its glory, was still off-limits but Allison spent less time their then she used to and waiting for Kira to return stopped being a chore.

It didn’t last, but the day started beautifully.

The dragon draped himself lazily on the repaired castle wall, wondering what he could steal for dinner when the peaceful days finally ended. The silver armor was blinding bright and Scott blinked in confusion as spots danced in front of his eyes. Perplexed, he raised his head, staring out at the long line of horsemen that wound their way up the road towards the mountain, armed chevaliers from Duke Daehler’s private army. “Uh, guys…we have company.”

The Duke himself led the men from the back of a giant roan warhorse, resplendent in a deep violet cape and feathered plume on his helmet. “Release the Princess Allison, foul beast!”

“ _Shitballs_.”

"Then your head shall be my trophy!"

 

Stiles was concerned with breaking open a pile of odd smelling crates when the bells went off. The sound was crisp, clean, like music Stiles hadn’t heard in so long.

But all at once, Allison was racing out of her room, bow in hand, climbing the steps to the closest alcove, and what she saw when she peered out the window nearly made her heart stop.

The army charged at Scott, just as Allison let loose a single arrow. Her aim was true. She triggered their first wave of traps - strategically placed tripwire that had horses falling over themselves, flinging their riders in every direction, before a wall of wooden spikes raised from the ground, blocking off the main gate.

The dragon launched himself into the air with a whoosh, leathery wings beating hard as he hovered over the advancing army. He roared, sending a gout of flame above the soldier’s heads to send the remaining horses into a panic. They’d let down their guard, how had so many people gotten so close to the castle before they noticed? They’d gotten complacent, so sure that Kira was going to be back any day and break the curse that they’d stopped being so careful.

Scott didn’t want to kill anyone, but they had to turn the army back. The traps helped break their lines and the dragon swooped down to snap at tall lances, cracking the weapons in two and sending soldiers crashing to the ground.

No one had ever sent so many soldiers before, they were getting much bolder. He didn’t know if it was just that this ‘Duke’ was that determined to win Allison or if they’d been sending too many knights back down the mountain, beaten but still alive. If they weren’t afraid of him anymore, then they were all at risk.

Allison was already on the move, ready for their next set of traps. Stiles scrambled to catch a glimpse of the action, brows furrowing as he watched as a small group of knights crowded in an odd formation, almost like they were shielding someone, though not Daehler. The Duke was out in the open, busy taming his steed.

Scott didn’t notice how the knights moved together, missing the warning signs until it was too late. Green flames shot from the center of the group, leaving the air crackling at magic. Its target was clear. The dragon was not expected to survive.

_A mage?! How did they manage to find an actual mage?_ Scott tried to avoid the blast but the green flames seared along the side of his body, wing blackened and scorched as he tumbled from the air. The dragon landed heavily with a ground shaking howl, holding his ruined wing close to his burned side as ichor dripped from the wounds.

“Finish off the beast!” The Duke ordered, rallying his troops. “Kill it while it’s injured.”

"No!" Allison screamed before she could stop herself, gripping her chest like she’d been hit. Her grip faltered, features forced honest with fear, but even as her jaw trembled and heat pooled behind her eyes, she raised her bow and triggered another set of traps. Horses scattered, running through their masters’ ranks, but the mage was already preparing  for another attack, drawing her strength as her guards started cutting through raised wood.

Daehler’s forces didn’t have a bird’s eye view of the castle. They couldn’t see the trails Allison had used a thousand times before, to sneak up on enemies not much different than them. But Stiles did, and he’d taken off running the moment the mage had tipped her hand.

"Coward!" Allison roared in her tower, and she might as well have been a million miles away. She watched as Stiles darted along the perimeter of battle, sure they would never see him again, and her blood boiled in righteous fury. _They wouldn’t kill Scott. They wouldn’t have her. She wouldn’t let it happen!_

Stiles had taken off running before he realized what it meant. The guards around the mage were meant to shield her from aerial attacks they were certain the dragon would unleash, but outside of their little cluster, their ranks were in turmoil. Flames licked at the trees, dark smoke blinding most, but Daehler swore he could taste victory.

They were prepared for a dragon. A shadow with a knife meant nothing to them. Stiles would never be a duelist, never be a knight, but when he sneaked up on the group from behind, he had all he needed for a single shot.

The mage fell with a blade through her back. The closest knight barely had time to react, before a shower of sharpened rocks rained down upon them.

The ranks collapsed with the mage, battered by the elaborate traps. They hadn’t expected the castle to be so fortified and their mage had been their best hope at succeeding. If she could have taken out the dragon, the Duke expected to have been welcomed with open arms and an intensely grateful princess willing to do anything to show her appreciation. He was shocked at how it had slipped through his fingers so quickly. They’d taken down the beast, but it was still alive, snapping dangerously at chevaliers who scrambled to escape its jaws. His lines broke, soldiers fleeing the field and how had their mage been killed?! The Duke didn’t even see the strike, his soldiers confused as she’d died silently.

“NO!” This wasn’t possible, he’d planned this perfectly and they’d spared no expense. Victory had been so close and now it all fall apart. “Fight! Back in lines, fight!”

“My Lord, we need to retreat.” His lieutenant pleaded, earning a mace strike against his helm that sent him to his knees. Daehler ground his teeth, swearing vengeance.

“Retreat! Pull back!” The Duke swung his warhorse around as the survivors struggled to corral their mounts and flee back down to safety. The dragon chased them with sputtering bursts of flame, the field charred and burned to ash around them.

Allison didn’t spare the soldiers another glance, sprinting across the field and ignoring the sparks that caught and burned through her jerkin. She threw down her bow, wrapping her arms around the dragon’s snout and burying her face against his scales. “I’m so sorry, Scott. This is my fault, none of this should have happened. I’m sorry.”

The creature gingerly curled his claws around her body in the closest thing he could give to a hug. The entire left side of his body was charred, burn wounds raw and bleeding with black edges. His wing was completely ruined, held tight against his back and trembling in pain. “It’s okay, we won. I’m fine.” He lied, but he did it so convincingly.

Daehler’s defeat would spawn rumors of demons and monsters, turning the dragon into a beast of legend. First it was one mage, murdered in the blink of an eye. Then it was five. Then it was fifteen. Daehler’s personal army turned into the troops of all of Ferelden - but not yet.

Now, there was an injured dragon to attend to, and months’ work of traps to salvage. If another squadron attacked them now, they’d be defenseless.

Stiles waited until the last soldier fled before rushing at the gates. He stopped only long enough to examine the mage, his stomach churning, but he still retrieved her bag and the blade lodged in her back. The smell of ash and smoke left him dizzy, and the time he lost being violently ill felt like a lifetime. He stumbled into the courtyard, dragging his loot behind him. Seeing his friends stole what little strength he managed to keep. “Dragon!”

His voice caught in his throat, but Stiles tripped over his own feet in haste, skidding to a halt by the creature’s side. Black blood splattered across the ground, and the princess looked livid, her face twisted into a snarl, but she held her tongue as she noted the bloody knife he clumsily brandished.

"We have to do something!" Stiles demanded, voice feeble and strained because no amount of yelling would create a salve powerful enough to soothe the dragon’s wounds.

Allison hunched over her partner, holding herself so sternly her aching muscles started to tremble. She wouldn’t stop stroking down Scott’s cheeks, cradling his head as gently as she could. Scott was one of the strongest people she’d ever known, and she wanted to believe him. There was just so much she couldn’t look away from.

"Water," she ordered, carefully ironing the tremor out of her tone, and she wouldn’t let this - this stranger without a name see her fall apart, not when they were so far from finished. "There are barrels in the kitchen. Fill them with water. We’ll wash his wounds."

She didn’t know what she was doing. She’d never stepped foot into war, but Allison had experience tending to the injured and dying. She was a princess. _She had to know_ , but, no one ever told her how to take care of a dragon. “And the herb set in the castle, bring it. And cloth, as many blankets as you can carry.”

The wheels in Stiles’s head turned, frustration clear on his face as he tried to route the quickest, most efficient way between him and the lake, and he finally found use for his stubborn ass.

"Hurry."

Scott tried to protest, wanting so badly to reassure them that he was fine. He did his best to keep himself as still as possible, muscles shaking from the burns. “It’s okay, stop.”

“Will you shut up!” Allison snapped. Scott would bleed out right in front of them and apologize for getting blood on their shoes. He’d never admit how bad things could get, even when he needed help. That stupid, brave, frustrating idiot. It was why she had fallen in love with him and why she couldn’t stay with him. He was too good, too selfless and she’d been too afraid of her own weakness to accept his help. Scott shouldn’t have been here, he’d been cursed because of her family and forced to become a monster. He was an innocent caught up in Argent family politics and she wasn’t going to let him die because of it too. She refused to let her dearest friend perish.

“Allison, please.” His voice was low, but even through the pain he tried to comfort her and Allison refused to let the tears fall. The dragon curled the tip of his tail around her ankle. “Just breathe. Calm down, we’re going to be okay.”

She waited impatiently for the knight and his fool donkey to get back, taking charge as soon as he brought the demanded supplies. She steeped the herbs in the water, soaking the blankets and draping them over as much of the charred flesh as she could. The wing… she wasn’t sure it could be saved. The delicate membranes cracked and flaked into ash at the gentlest touch as she wrapped them in wet blankets. With her best commanding tone, she set Stiles to bringing barrel after barrel of water, pouring them over the soggy fabric until Scott’s trembling stopped and he sighed in relief.

The grounds were still smoldering and there was so much work to do. They needed to work quickly to reset their traps and fortify the castle in case the Duke or any other would be suitor decided to test their luck, but Scott was too tired. He settled against the castle wall, keeping his left wing held tightly against his body. Kira needed to come back soon, they wouldn’t be able to survive too many of these kinds of attacks, especially if they were going to bring mages on the battlefield. “Thank you both. You guys should get some rest. I’ll keep an eye out in case they come back.”

"I’ll take first watch," Allison snapped, nearing exhaustion herself, but there were only three of them and still so much that needed to be done. Stiles wasn’t about to argue with her. His donkey hovered at the edge of their makeshift camp, quiet for once, and their moment of peace had been hard-won. Stiles found himself stroking across the dragon’s smooth scales, those left untouched by cursed flames. It would be a long time before he forgot the smell of crushed leaves and burnt flesh.

"Then wake me after," he demanded, before the dragon could intervene. "Let him get his rest."

Allison nodded, and regardless of how terse it was, she acknowledged that he’d chosen to stay. At least they were in agreement on one thing. They would take care of Scott.

Stiles never made it to his room. He got as far as the main hall, before falling into a couch. He didn’t try to explain it later, when he found himself on a grassy field, warm sun beating down on his skin. Someone’s back was pressed against his chest, and he never wanted to let go.

 

 

 


	6. Ereptile Dysfunction

_ Stiles didn’t try to explain it later, when he found himself on a grassy field, warm sun beating down on his skin. Someone’s back was pressed against his chest, and he never wanted to let go. _

The kite seemed farther than ever.

"Something’s wrong," he said, nosing against the back of Scott’s throat, baby hairs tickling his cheeks, but that was no reason for him to stop.

"I’m okay," Scott answered, but that just made Stiles press closer.

“You have to tell me what it is.” Stiles said softly, trying to coax the answer from the boy in his arms.

“I’m never going to find you.” Scott didn’t try to escape his friend’s hold but pulled his knees up to his chest as if he could make himself smaller. “It was one time so long ago. I’m not the same as I used to be and you can’t be either. You don’t even know who I am.”

“I am going to find you, I promised!” Stiles had worked so hard, he’d refused to accept anything else. After all those years, Scott was in his arms like he was supposed to be. “I’m right here.”

The prince didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just leaned back so he could watch the slow white clouds drift through the bright summer sky. He missed the feeling of the sun on his skin, the warmth that didn’t burn like… like… there weren’t burns? Scott ran a hand down the dark unbroken flesh of his arm. It didn’t even hurt? He wanted to go home. He wanted to stay here where things were safe and he was happy. The wind picked up, racing through the field and making the wildflowers dance and the fluffy clouds twist into fantastic shapes. “You need to let me go.”

The kite took a tumble, like it had heard the words, but it never touched the ground, soaring for the skies as Stiles snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, no.”

"Stiles this isn’t funny," the prince frowned, turning to look over his shoulder, and making that decision hurt. He didn’t want to lose this. Scott didn’t have many ties to humanity left.

"What makes you think I’m joking?"

Scott still yelped when the other boy pulled him back, assaulted by long limbs and a billion elbows, and Stiles was taller than he remembered, broader to. This was his first friend and someone completely different, but his smirk was the same, and he still made the worst decisions.

Stiles scrambled on top of him, only to card his fingers through his hair in a rare show of proof that his sharp angles could be careful, too. “I did everything so I could find you, Scott. This feels right.”

"You can’t keep wasting your life like this." Scott pleaded. "I’m not… I’m not even-"

Stiles cut him off with a kiss, more chaste than a nun’s habit, but it made him blush to the tip of his ears. When he realized he got Scott to quiet, his smirk got even wider. “Try and stop me.”

Something had shifted suddenly, Scott could feel it even if he had no idea what it meant. Some dynamic in their relationship, the pining for a friend, for someone that had become so much sharper in the span of a single heartbeat. He stared up in shock at the other boy, mouth open and flushed. Not a boy anymore, a Man? It was like he couldn’t recognize all the pieces together, but the grin he knew.

“You are such a butt!” Princes weren’t taught back alley insults.

Scott hooked his foot around his friend’s leg, rolling to throw the boy’s weight off of him and wrestling Stiles down into the grass. Worries were forgotten as they fought, never trying to hurt each other but with the same intensity as a real brawl. No one wanted to be the loser. It was awkward and untrained, both of them catching sharp joints in tender areas, but refusing to give up until they finally lay side by side and laughing.

Stiles giggled, smacking his hand against Scott’s stomach to make him “oomf.” Everything hurt, but it was so worth it. “We’re going to have to work on your insults.”

“I think they’re just fine! You are a butt, a giant dumb butt.” Scott panted, but his smile was firmly in place. “Don’t complain just because I’m right.”

"Yeah! Well you’re a bag of raging cow nuts! You’re a dirty lush! You - you overgrown pig pocket!"

Scott laughed until he cried, remarkably brave in the face of some of Stiles’s sickest burns. Stiles wasn’t doing any better. It was the absolute worst. They rolled around like dolts until Scott got the hiccups, and Stiles would let him die laughing. He let the prince flop on top of him, dark curls going everywhere, and Stiles just wanted to pull them a little. He kind of never wanted to move again.

"Hey Scott?" Stiles asked, and he forgot what it was like to not smile when the prince looked at him. "Let me take care of you. It’ll be okay. I’ll be good at it. I promise."

Scott still struggled for air, letting out breathy little puffs, but that didn’t stop him from plopping his chin down on Stiles’s chest. He could see up his nostril from here, and that wasn’t so bad. “Only if I can take care of you.”

Stiles hummed noncommittally, brushing strands out of Scott’s face. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to enjoy things like this, but he did, as long as it was Scott. “Sorry I kept you waiting for so long.”

Scott didn’t tell him that he thought it was okay to wait forever.

 

 


	7. The Dragon, the Witch, and the Cake Pantry

The world crumbled all around them in a blink, and when Scott sucked in a breath, he choked on ash.

Scott clawed to hold on to the dream and whatever humanity he had left reflected back in Stiles’s smile. It was better there, he’d give anything to stay and reality crashed back in an unwelcome wave. The dragon wanted to howl at how unfair it was, he could still feel his friend’s fingers in his hair and the way his ribs still hurt from laughing. Please don’t go, please. It wasn’t fair!

"Hey! Hey, Scott, it’s okay!" A voice called from his flank. There was a flurry of movement then an impish smile greeted him. Around him, the castle walls were remarkably whole, like Daehler had never approached, and in the distance, green smoke climbed into the air. It was all an illusion but it looked amazingly real. Even if it wouldn’t stop any attackers, it would slow them down while they scrambled to make repairs.

Kira looked worse for wear, her hair in disarray and still in her travel coat, as the sun just started to crawl across the sky. But she pet Scott’s neck with a unique sort of daring.

"We’ve got everything under control."

Awareness came with pain and the dragon’s first instinct was to flinch away from the light touch of human hands. Wait, he knew that voice. “Kira! Oh, welcome back.” He didn’t even try to disguise the relief in his voice. If she was here, that must mean she had a way to help them. “Whoa, did you do all this?” He raised his head to get a better look at the illusion, sneezing again at the tickle of ash and magic in his nose. “Does Allison know you’re back? We should tell her, she should-” Scott tried to stand and rumbled as his side erupted in agony, settling back down against the wall with a drawn out whine.

“Allison knows I’m back, we worked through the night to get the enchantment set up.” The mage beamed through messy bangs and the dragon managed to chuckle.

“I’m impressed, you’re getting really good at this. You should have woken me up so I could help.”

“You needed to rest.” Allison cut in with her no nonsense tone. “You’re really hurt, we can handle this.”

“I don’t know if I can repair all the damage, but I might be able to make something to help it hurt a little bit less?” Kira said thoughtfully as Allison slipped an arm around her waist. “We can check the castle and see if it has what I need to make an ointment for the burns. You should be able to heal most of it.”

“Most?” Scott hissed as he tried to move his wing, nothing left but the thin spines where the membrane had burned completely away. He’d never fly again like this, it was the one thing being a monster ever offered him. If they did manage to break the bond between them and he couldn’t go home again, at least he’d have finally been able to be free. Now he was trapped for good.

“Oh, Scott…” Kira hugged his neck. “We’ll fix it. I’m back, we’re gonna fix everything now, but you have to relax." Kira’s tone was softer than Allison, but she was no less willing to back up her argument. "It’ll take some time for your scales to regrow, and I don’t want you straining yourself until they’re at least covering your leg. It’s going to be okay."

The mage knew exactly what spell had been used to attack the dragon. Allison had shown her the attacker’s bag, letting Kira work out what spell circles she tapped. They just had a lot of heavy lifting to do. There were also a few more threads that needed to be dealt with.

"Scott…" Allison brought up at length. "What about Fainty?"

"Fainty, like the dwarf?" Kira asked, grinning, and she was the only person who could make Allison smile like that.

"Kira says there’s a way to alter his memories, make sure he never finds this place again."

“Fainty’s not a dwarf!” Scott immediately protested, leaping to the absent man’s defense. “He’s a…well, he’s…um.” A knight wouldn’t be quite accurate. “He came to try and rescue Allison when she thought she was in trouble, that’s kind of nice? And he wasn’t going to try to kill me, not that he really could because he’s sort of the worst knight ever. We’ve been kind of keeping him here until you get back. Do we really have to send him away without his memories?”

“Scott, we’re so close to being free from all this, you know we can’t trust anyone but us.” Allison said with a hint of regret. Doing the smart thing wasn’t always easy and she’d seen how much happier Scott had been, but they couldn’t take the risk when they had worked so hard for this.

“I know we can trust him.”

“You don’t know that! We don’t even know his real name, you need to let Kira take care of this.”

The dragon huffed, raising a cloud of ashes around them that sent Kira into a coughing fit. Allison rubbed her back soothingly and fought to keep from glaring at Scott for being so naively sentimental. “Allison, he stopped the mage. He fought with us, that has to prove something.”

“Maybe it shows he was working with them all along and now he has our trust. You think it’s a coincidence he shows up here and then we suddenly have an army at our door? We’ll make him forget and send him on his way, he’ll be safe and happy and none the wiser.”

“It’s a mistake, Allie.”

“It’s what we have to do.” The princess said sharply. “Being a ruler means making tough decisions sometimes, that’s something you should be used to by now, Scott.”

Kira patted Allison’s hand, still fighting back the urge to hack up a lung, but she slowly turned to the dragon, gently stroking his side. “It won’t hurt him, Scott. I promise. We can give him some coin, and he’ll be on his way, probably better off than when he started. He’ll just forget his quest, and why he’s on it.”

She didn’t know everything about them, but Allison had filled her in as best as she could. Kira knew it was naive, but she still thought it was good that they’d found someone nice to be around. Such a simple thing couldn’t be taken for granted with their curse. In the end, it was their decision.

"It’ll take me some time to get everything settled, but I’ve got a lot to tell you guys. Good things." She said, and Allison’s grip tightened unintentionally on her shoulder. Kira didn’t push her away. "First, let’s take care of Scott’s scales."

She was probably right, Allison was on just about everything, but there was an intense disappointment at the thought of losing the human. Scott liked having someone new around that could make him smile, it had been so difficult for so long and with Allison pulling away the deeper she let herself sinking into thoughts of revenge, there wasn’t anyone for him to talk to. They could trust Fainty, he knew they could. The man had taken a huge risk to attack a mage by himself and if he hadn’t, Scott was sure he would be dead right now. Maybe there would be a way to convince Allison to let him keep Fainty, she was usually happier when Kira was around. All he needed was a little time.

"We don’t have to send him away right now, do we?"

The princess sighed. “No, we don’t have to send him away right now.”

It was a good enough start and Scott submitted to Kira’s careful healing that leached away the pain like numbing ice until he exhaled a plume of smoke of relief.

"You’re still going to have to be careful while it knits itself together, but it should heal. We’ll work on your wing next time."

Allison slipped her hand into the mage’s with a proud smile and Scott carefully nudged Kira with his snout in thanks.

"Where is Fainty anyway? We should probably let him know Kira is here so he doesn’t freak out."

The Princess pointed towards the main hallway. “Should be somewhere inside. Let him know this mage is a friend.”

"He gets loud when new things surprise him," Allison said, not entirely unkind. Kira begrudgingly gave Scott permission to move.

He didn’t have to hobble far. As soon as he was in the main room, an uncoordinated ball of half-asleep human launched itself at him, hugging him as tightly he could manage and clinging to the dragon’s neck. A half-panicked, half-hysterical laugh ripped through Stiles, but he didn’t care what he sounded like. The pillow creases on his face made sure he wasn’t much to look at either.

"Scalebutt!" He ground out, still trying to wipe away the memory of a bright summer’s day and warm grass. "You’re alive!"

Stating the obvious had never felt so good.

"Scalebutt?" Kira asked. Allison shrugged, and for the life of her, Kira wondered how someone like him could have found Castle Blackheart to begin with.

“Of course I’m alive!” Scott was honestly surprised that Fainty cared so much, unused to anyone besides Kira or Allison worrying about him. The man didn’t have a reason to be that concerned and it left the dragon feeling both vulnerable and incredibly fond of this strange little human. “You saved me. I’m a little crispy, but I’ll be alright.” Enormous claws curled around Stiles’s body in a pseudo-hug, careful not to actually touch him.

Stiles whooped in surprise, only to cling to the dragon’s closest talon like a lifeline. Relief was a cool glass of water that went down easy, and Stiles tried to wriggle his way into Scalebutt’s palm without shame.

Seeing the dragon like this, hurt but healing, tired but pleased, carved something out in his chest. Stiles never made friends easy. He was never courtly or refined or dishonest enough for the other noble children, and the citizens on his father’s land saw him as the Duke’s son before anything else. He was a selfish, overly loud person to begin with. It hadn’t been this simple since - since the Delgados, and it figured the only one who could compete with Prince Scott was a dragon.

“Oh! This is Kira, we told you about her. She just got back and she’s going to… she’s gonna help us.” _And take you home. I wish she didn’t have to._ Scott snout split into a fanged smile. “She’s one of the good guys, but she’ll still turn you into a frog if you piss her off, so be careful.”

Kira poked the dragon’s leg with her elbow and rolled her eyes. “I’m not turning anybody into anything, especially frogs! If I was going to turn somebody into something, it would probably be a cute and furry something anyways. I’d never want to turn someone into a gross slimy animal, that’s super mean. Maybe a fox? They’re cute! Or a bunny, I really love bunnies.” Kira caught a look from Allison and raised both eyebrows. “What? I know you like bunnies too.”

The princess laughed and pulled the rambling mage into her arms. “I’ve missed you.”

Kira turned very interesting shades of red, and Scott tried to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. “Girlfriends.” He muttered at Stiles.

"I’m getting tooth decay just watching them," he teased without malice.

"Because you never brush your teeth?" Allison snorted, but Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen her so relaxed.

He ran his hand across his friend’s scales, thinking about that first burst of green flame. “But he’s going to be all right, right?” He added, just needing to hear the words again. “You’re going to be all right?”

"Yeah," the mage answered, and her smile could challenge the stars. Allison had a type. "We won’t let anything happen to him… I just need a little help?"

As Kira explained the which herbs she’d need for her potions and spells, Stiles curled as close as he could to the dragon. It wasn’t a difficult task, Kira assured him, and she’d previously picked found the herbs around the castle’s woods before. She’d go herself, but there was work to be done, and Allison firmly insisted she get some actual rest. Stiles made note of all her requests, as she summoned her map and scrolls for his reference, but he couldn’t stop squirming in Scalebutt’s grip, needing to make sure that he really wasn’t going anywhere.

Scott kept his grip loose, smiling as the man held his claws and wishing he could… what? Hold him? See if the knight could wrap his arms around him like Allison and Kira did with each other? He was being an idiot, three steps ahead of reality and so lonely he was inventing something that wasn’t there. So the knight was worried about him, that didn’t mean anything. He was a dragon, they weren’t friends. They were barely even allies and soon they wouldn’t even be that. Fainty didn’t even know he was human and Scott didn’t know anything about the other man, not even his name. Allison was right, but it didn’t stop the dragon from wondering what it would be like if he really was human again. Would the knight still be so relieved? Would he still smile like that? Were they really friends?

“I promise I’ll be okay.” He added and was rewarded with a look that was so relieved he almost blurted out their plan right then and there. _I’ll be okay, but you won’t be. I’m so sorry, I wish I could keep you._

Scott watched after him as the human left to find his ‘noble steed.’ “I like him.” he murmured to Allison, but knew that wouldn’t be enough when there were other lives and an entire kingdom at stake. The princess might have a soft spot for mages and dragons, but she wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of liberating her kingdom. The knight would be well paid and safely away long before the battle, it wasn’t much of a sacrifice even if she felt so badly about Scott. The sooner she could break the curse and make him human again, the better.

"You trust him, right?" Allison didn’t quite ask, as the noble went to fetch his ass.

Meanwhile, Kira snapped her fingers to buns cakes from the kitchen, eager to update her friends on her travels. The dragon wasted no time stealing entire ones for himself. "I found the Keeper of the Scrolls. Lady Lydia said she knew you wouldn’t let a dragon capture you, and she says ‘hi.’" Kira couldn’t and didn’t want to hide the pride in her tone. "I - er, do you want the good news or the bad first? I found a spell that will help us get past the army so we can stop your Grandfather.”

Kira pulled out old, delicate books from her pack. “There’s no way that we’d be able to get by them without some serious firepower and I don’t just mean dragon breath. There’s a legend about growing mystical warriors by planting dragon teeth. If we can get enough, then we’ll be able to have an army of our own.”

“You’re going to pull my teeth out?!” Scott squawked, snout smeared with pink frosting.

“Not all of them, and they grow back. We’ll probably have to do it a few times to get enough, but you’ll barely even notice. They’ll be healed in a day or so, dragons are always losing teeth.” Kira said like she was an expert. Scott wasn’t so sure.

“I’m not sure we’ve met enough other dragons to ask them about their dentistry.”

"Don’t worry. I’ll make soup." The princess teased, but pet Scott’s leg to show solidarity.

Allison made a promise to herself then. After their curse was broken, she would help Scott find the odd lanky noble. She had a kingdom to run, and what they planned on doing would guarantee conflict, but she would make time to help the one friend who had, quite literally, been with her every step of the way. First, they had to get rid of her grandfather.

"And uh, I looked into your curse a little more. It’s blood magic. I can confirm that now, designed to last for as long as the caster lives. I can’t break it." Kira added uncertainly.

Allison laughed, low and hollow. “No change of plans then.”

"But I can break your connection to this castle." Kira pushed on bravely. "I’ll be able to start on the spell work once I get all my ingredients, and if the teeth work out, I’ll travel before you to plant them around Allison’s kingdom. Like a surprise attack. It’ll take a month, roughly, depending on how fresh the herbs. It… This is a lot of magic, like I haven’t done this much since I left my mom. But assuming this all works out, and you get into the castle…"

Scott still wasn’t sure that he wanted to kill anyone at all, but there wasn’t much of an option. A kingdom under a madman’s control, being a cursed monster forever or breaking a blood magic spell with violence. It was a terrible choice. “If there’s no other way.” He said unhappily, licking the frosting from his snout.

Nothing about this sounded easy or safe and the dragon huffed a ring of smoke in displeasure. “If we get into the castle. I don’t know, this sounds like it’s not the best plan, guys. I can’t fly and it’s not like I can sneak anywhere. There’s only us, we’re not going to get another shot. If Gerard figures out that we’ve broken free, he’s going to send everything he’s got to hunt us down. Kira, are you sure you’ll be able to cast that many spells? I know you’re powerful, but it’s so much.”

The mage shared a long look with Allison, reaching for her hand and drawing strength from the warrior. “I can. I have to. I know it’s a lot, but I’m not going to let you down.” Scott knew that Kira wasn’t speaking to him and he smiled as Allison actually flushed.

“Okay, I’m in. This is going to work.” Positivity always helped. If he could make himself believe they had a chance, then they really might pull this off. “Just don’t yank out all my teeth at once, please? I don’t think I can gum a cow to death.”

"There are ways in. I know the castle better than most. I always wanted to explore it," Allison confessed. "If Kira and I get to the throne room, everything should… I can stop Gerard. We can do this."

Hope was a beautiful, tempting vision that Allison wanted to give into every time they spoke. She knew it was important. It was pivotal when all seemed lost, and it worked best at keeping her grounded, but she had to be careful about falling into its promises.

"Then let’s get started."

 

When Stiles returned, Kira had already set up shop in a room in Allison’s wing. She didn’t turn him into a fox for bringing back subpar herbs, so he counted that a win (his herbs were not subpar! They were totally on par!). He had to drag Jackson back into the stable. The donkey didn’t appreciate sharing his space with Kira’s steed, and a runaway warhorse. Allison had finally allowed herself to collapse, as the bags beneath her eyes threatened to swallow her face, and he and Scalebutt found themselves at Blackheart Castle’s ruined walls, where they collected and picked apart old bits of traps that may be reusable.

Allison and Kira had removed and destroyed the dead bodies. Aside from the mage, two soldiers had perished for their Duke. Stiles kept his head down, and looked for sharpened rock.

"You guys… You’ve been here for a while." He started, and ended just as quickly, regretful. "And there are always fights."

Although the dragon’s wing was still held awkwardly next to his body, the rest of his wounds stopped throbbing and were starting to finally heal so he was able to keep up with the human as they carefully picked their way along the charred remains of the castle grounds. “More than I’d like.” Scott said with a sigh, sorry for each and every one of them. “I wish they’d leave us alone. I know they’re trying to do the right thing and save a princess from an evil monster, but we have to protect ourselves and people keep getting caught in the middle. I’m so tired of watching people get hurt. It’s not fair, none of them should have to suffer because of this.”

No one had ever sent an army this large before and the damage was significant. They would spend ages resetting all of their traps and Scott had the sinking feeling it would fall to them while Allison and Kira worked on the more mystical part of their plan. Maybe that meant he could keep Fainty around for a little bit longer? Tiny human hands would come in handy and he definitely didn’t have a pair of those for his own anymore.

“It seems like we’ve been here forever, I’m not sure how long it’s been.” The dragon admitted, pulling out a mass of tangled wire with the tip of his claw. “It’s almost over and then we can all finally go home. Allison has the plan and Kira has the magic. I guess that makes me the scary muscle.” And teeth supply, ugh. “We just have to hold out long enough for them to get everything ready and hope that the Duke whoever he was doesn’t try to attack again.”

Stiles was sorrier than he was capable of putting to words, shoulders slumping as if the rocks in his hand had grown a hundred times heavier. Scalebutt was being far more generous than Stiles would have been, and every so often, the noble found himself staring at that damaged wing, wishing he was tall enough to reach it. He made due patting the dragon’s leg.

"Well if they want scary, you should just fart on everyone." He tried, and Stiles wondered when he’d started imagining that Scalebutt could smile. "Can I help? I want to. I know I’m, like, your prisoner probably but - actually, no, fuck that. We’re friends, right? Let me help you guys."

"If you held a torch behind me, I could probably flame out of both ends." The dragon seemed extremely amused by the thought and almost like he was giving it serious consideration. "Maybe not. You’d probably lose a hand if you tried, I don’t think there’d be a lot of aiming. I’m still working on the whole set some things on fire but don’t set everything on fire thing. It’s not like you just automatically know how to be accurate. Allison would be upset if I stomped into battle with my tail raised anyways." It was always something to think about though in a worst case scenario.

Scott set his head down near the knight to get a better look at him, staring silently with enormous yellow eyes that seemed almost human with their expression for the briefest of moments. “You want to be my friend? You’re not really a prisoner, we’re going to let you go. This isn’t your fight, you don’t really want to get involved with some dangerous magey king and an army and everything. It’ll be better if you go.” Even if I wish you didn’t have to. It’s not my choice. “Thanks though, for the offer and for the friend part. I don’t… really have very many of those. I’ve never really been good at it.”

It was such a simple issue, Stiles wondered why he hadn’t figured it out sooner. Humans were responsible for some terrible shit, and maybe the reason Scalebutt couldn’t go home was that the people in the North had taken it away from him. Maybe he’d been trying to find a new one when King Gerard decided to be a giant jerk. If he’d lived through that, Stiles wouldn’t want to discuss it either.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, petting Scalebutt’s snout, leaning just close enough that he could rest his head against it. Somewhere along the line, Scalebutt’s fangs stopped scaring him. Of all his bad ideas, Stiles liked this one best. "Humans are asshats. You should have more friends. You’re a great dragon."

The princess was going to fight for her kingdom, and soon she and Kira would be queens. Battle wasn’t where Stiles wanted to die, and if he didn’t leave, he’d never have a chance to talk to Prince Scott, even if it was just to grant himself some closure. He was chasing a dream that was decades in the making, and in the face of his friend’s death, its importance was paltry.

"If… After this is over, if you need a place to stay just head east of Allison’s kingdom, as the crow - dragon? Crow dragon flies. You’ll see a great cliff eventually, by a large farm with a bright red barn. I promise, we won’t turn you away." The noble bit back a laugh. He’d nearly told the dragon to ask for Stiles Stilinski. No one would be looking to give directions.

Scott oh-so-carefully nudged Stiles with his nose, trying to be gentle instead of just bowling him over. He still wasn’t great at judging his own strength sometimes and was suddenly very aware of how huge he was in comparison with the human. “I’m a terrible dragon, but thank you.” For such a large creature, his voice could be remarkably soft like it didn’t belong to such a fearsome beast. It was too shy for something that could stomp a castle’s walls down and incinerate an oncoming army.

“You really want a dragon to come hang out on your farm?” The idea was almost ridiculous, but if he survived this and there really wasn’t a way to turn him back, it was nice to think there might be some place for him to actually go. A dragon pulling a plow would probably get a lot of attention, but he could do it if it meant being able to help. “I promise I won’t even eat any of your livestock without asking permission first.” He looped the end of his tail around Stiles’s waist, fragile happiness bursting like a bubble. Would the offer still stand if the human didn’t remember him after Kira cast her spell? Would he remember any of this? If he showed up at a farm without warning, they’d probably come after him with pitchforks, which were the worst. Scott didn’t know if he could handle the human looking at him with fear and disgust after saying they were friends. “Thank you, it sounds really tempting.”

"I promise, dude, I’ll only make you eat sheep once."

Stiles had to reassess his assumptions. He knew better, so there was no merit to his thoughts, but he still wondered why it suddenly seemed like the dragon was sad.

"You need to get him out of here.”

The dragon tipped his head to better see the princess, surprised by the order. “You and Kira need all the help you can get resetting the defenses, Allison. We shouldn’t leave you alone now. What if we’re attacked again?”

Allison gave her friend a tense smile. “If Fainty tries to help any more, I’m going to throw him off the top of the tower. He means well, but he accidentally got in the way of Kira’s last spell and she’s blue. She’s _literally_ blue, Scott. It’s like trying to sleep next to a giant blueberry.’

Scott huffed a plume of smoke, trying to cover his laugh. “It wasn’t on purpose?”

“I don’t care! Take him somewhere, go to the lake, get him out of the castle so we can finish work without him getting in the way. I don’t care what you have to tell him, just go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Allison?” Kira peeked around the corner of the room with an embarrassed grin. She looked like a plum. “I think it’s turning purple now.”

“SCOTT, GO.”

“Going!”

The beast ducked his head to hide his enormous toothy smile and backed his way carefully out of the castle. He pounced on the hapless knight without a warning, wrapping his tail around Stiles and lifting him up onto his back. “Hold on tight, we’re going swimming.”

Fainty shrieked like a banshee, and Scott might have taken great pleasure in swinging him from the tip of his tail. He was careful though, very careful. A warm rush of affection surged through him, and the dragon knew he would never let their visitor fall. Fainty didn’t need to know that.

“Oh my god!” Fainty sounded like he was going to live up to his name.

“That was for Kira,” Scott lied. Something thumped against his lower back and he craned his neck just to sneak a peak of Fainty plastering himself to his scales. He made sure not to fly too fast. That way, he could still hear the way Fainty groaned. “Are you okay?”

“No. I’m dead. Killed dead. You killed me dead.”

“Ah. I guess I’ll just have to eat you. Can’t have dead bodies stinking up the place.”

“Your face stinks up the place!”

Scott landed on the edge of the lake with a splash, and Fainty rolled right off his back. It was so easy to drop his chin on the human’s squishy belly. Fainty went down with a yelp, sinking into soft sand. For one brief moment, Scott was scared. Then Fainty laughed so loud he snorted, and the dragon forgot why he should have been. He watched bony arms climb up his snout, big golden reptile eyes crossing as he tried to focus, and for his trouble got a front row seat to Fainty sticking out his tongue. Scott didn’t think he was allowed to be this happy.

“You’re asking for it.” The dragon tried to murmur without opening his jaw so he wouldn’t bounce the human too much.

“What are you gonna do?” Fainty challenged automatically. “Eat me?”

Scott gave his friend a toothy draconian smile and backed into the lake with Stiles clinging to his snout. He waddled into the deeper water before submerging himself like a crocodile and dragging the human with him. Fainty squawked indignantly, slashing and hacking as he suddenly found himself underwater.

“You are the worst dragonbro of all time!”

Scalebutt chuckled, blowing bubbles under the water before popping up to the surface and sending waves rippling out in every direction. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun like this, playing around like he wasn’t some kind of giant scaled beast. Fainty wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else who came to attack their prison. He didn’t even give him those quiet, sad looks he caught from Kira and Allison, pitying him for his curse. When Fainty laughed, he meant it, like they were actually friends. Was it even possible? Scott couldn’t see himself as anything but a monster, he was shocked someone else could.

Fainty stripped out of his shirt and pants, flinging his soggy clothes to the shore and spat a stream of water at the dragon. “You okay?”

The dragon’s answer was burbled nonsense as he sank back below the surface, so hot he felt like his scales must be steaming. Could a dragon blush?

Fainty was just as gangly and bony as Scott had expected, but he was strong too. He had broad shoulders and knobby knees, and Scott couldn’t stop thinking about how much taller Fainty would look when Scott was - himself, human, not bigger than a house, and this was terrible. This was so terrible.

Fainty’s expression twisted, concern flitting lighting fast across his cheeks, but it was no less sincere than the one he was wearing when Scott woke for the first time to find his wing nearly burned off. The dragon did the only thing he could think of.

Fainty screamed as a blast of water knocked him off his feet, Scott’s cheeks puffed out and shameless, and when the human tried to return the favor, Scott lost it, rolling around and laughing as Fainty spewed out a mouthful that never even reached him.

“Not fair!” The human splashed and shrieked as a retaliatory wave bowled him completely over. He was still laughing as Scott anxiously plucked him from the water and dangled him in front of worried yellow eyes by the end of his tail.

“Are you okay? Are you drowning? Dude, if I have to give you mouth to mouth, I think I’d accidentally swallow you.”

Fainty just hiccupped gleefully as the dragon gently placed him back in the lake, floating beneath the beast’s giant head. “Nooooooo! Friends don’t chew friends, it’s like a rule. I’ve seen it somewhere.”

“Friends? You really think we’re friends?” The dragon sounded so surprised that Fainty choked, sending another pathetic wave of water at the creature’s giant face.

“Of course I do, idiot. You don’t want to eat me, I’m not trying to kill you, that’s sort of the basis of any good friendship. Plus, you’re not so bad for a dragon. Not that I’ve ever really met any others to compare with, but I’m sure you’re the best out of all of them. I’m a very good judge of character.”

_And what if I’m not a dragon? What am I then?_   Scott sank lower in the water, sunlight casting green-tinted rainbows from his scales.  “You know… when this is all over, maybe I could help you? You said that you were doing this whole stupid quest thing to impress someone, they might be really impressed if you show up with a dragon. We could tell everyone I’m vanquished or whatever.”

“You think he’d like that, dude?” Fainty asked, but his entire face lit up like he already knew the answer. Scott had to look away, careful this time about how he hid under water. Of course Fainty cared about the guy who was making him jump through so many dumb hoops. Fainty should have known that anyone who made him work so hard wasn’t worth his time. Fainty should have known that he was amazing, just the way he was, reckless and loud, and such a giant loser.

“Everyone loves dragons.” Scott replied glumly, trying not to think about how the stories used to fascinate him. They weren’t so great on the other side.

“Hell yeah!” The human whooped, splashing around like a dying fish before he tried to launch himself at Scott. The dragon yelped, flailing and wiggling, trying to find a way to shake Fainty off without _really_ shaking him off. It was a rodeo no one knew the rules to, but Fainty held on like a lamprey, laughing into Scott’s ear. “Best dragonfriend, _ever_.”

That shouldn’t have hurt, but it did.

Then there was an incredibly loud gurgle as bubbles rose to the surface. They came out of Scott’s butt. There were no survivors.

 

 


	8. El Dragonblo

The sky was darker than Scott had ever seen it and bright lights flashed in the distance as lightning arced between the clouds. The scent of rain was heavy in the air and he shivered at the sudden chilly bite of the wind. The kite fought at the end of its string like it was trying to escape before the rumbling storm grew closer. The field they’d spent so many nights in, reliving memories and dreaming new ones, suddenly felt like a target.

“I’m scared, Stiles.“

“I’m gonna protect you, Scott.”  

They couldn’t find shelter. They never needed it before, but Stiles huddled closer now, his arms wound tight against his best friend. The metallic smell of copper hung in the air. His hands were slippery, and Stiles didn’t know why. All he knew was that he couldn’t look at them now. He still tucked Scott in, trying to shield him the best way he could even if he didn’t know how.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Please don’t go. Please please don’t go.”

Scott leaned against his friend as the storm rolled in. The thunder sounded too much like clashing swords on scales and he winced. “I can’t go anywhere.” The prince said quietly, words stolen by the wind that curled around them. “I can’t leave and I can’t find you. I thought I’d be able to fly.”

The boy turned to look at his friend, squinting as he tried to study the features of Stiles’s face. They were shifting and unclear like he knew all the pieces but he couldn’t make them fit. He’d known the boy but what kind of person had his friend grown into without him? The mouth he knew, the color of his eyes, but the rest never seemed to settle.

“I’ll find you. I promised, Scott. I’ll do everything - everything to find you,” Stiles promised, but his voice broke and his hands started to shake. There was so much blood. So much blood, and she’d never even screamed, but Stiles couldn’t get her dead stare out of his head.

Scott kissed him. It was hard and demanding. They held on too tight, afraid of what would happen if they let go, but it felt good and right. The storm clouds didn’t go away. The lightning didn’t stop flaring, but for the first time, Stiles felt brave enough to cry.

The storm broke over them and Scott was soaked to the skin in an instant, but he held on tight. He pushed harder, brave in his dreams like he never felt he could be with claws and fangs. The prince kissed his friend until he was breathless and gasped as water dripped from the ends of his hair. “I won’t let go, I promise. I’ve got you.”

The rain washed away the blood in rivulets of red and Stiles woke up, his pillow damp with tears. It was the last dream he’d have of his old friend for a long time.

 

 


	9. Catching Fire

A shift came over the castle’s occupants. It was as clear as day and twice as hot. They’d gone from existing to fighting back. Over the next few weeks, they all worked tirelessly to prepare for their attack. While Kira spent most of her days locked in her room, the rest of them repaired the castle’s defenses, and someone was always around to snipe at Scott when he tried to work too hard. The mage only ever emerged for meals, and twice she’d fallen asleep at the table, leaving Allison to carry her back to their room though the princess never seemed to mind. It was almost as bad as finding Kira waist deep inside Scott’s mouth, her legs kicking feebly as she worked.

Stiles screamed the first time he walked in on them, and Scott startled, flailing impressively at everything before flinging Kira out. Allison sent them both out to do repairs, and they did not spend the day sulking.

(“I guess you could say, I was really into your ex.” The mage said, wiping off dragon drool.

"Kira!")

Stiles kept busy, busier than he could ever remember being and half the time, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. He liked it better that way. It was the only way he could get to sleep. The nights had stopped being his alone.

The one night he didn’t go to bed completely exhausted, he spent the better part of an hour, watching shadows play on his ceiling before he decided that entertainment deserved a meal to go with it. Stiles never would have believed that he’d find a place for himself in Castle Blackheart, but as he crept through the corridors, he didn’t knock his shin against anything, not even once. If that wasn’t a sign he’d found home, he didn’t know what was.

A single candle was enough to light what he needed from the kitchen, but it wasn’t enough to warn him of Princess Allison’s approach.

It was a testament to her nerves that Allison didn’t scream or stab the sneaking shadows. Fainty moved like a thief and she wasn’t sure if that was something she admired or just another indication that he wasn’t who he claimed to be. He’d helped them, there wasn’t any denying the fact that he’d put himself out there for their cause, but the Princess had to stick with their plan no matter how Scott argued that the man could be trusted. This whole endeavor was so precariously balanced and failure meant death, not just for them but for her people who counted on her to lead. For all of Scott’s people who had no doubt mourned the kindest boy they’d ever known. They couldn’t change things now and they couldn’t take additional risks, they’d do what they’ve have to in order to succeed.

The young woman cleared her throat and was perversely pleased to see the sneak thief jump with a yelp and flailing limbs. Okay, skilled spy he wasn’t. She crossed her arms and flashed the man a bright smile. “Should I ask why you’re lurking around in the dark in the middle of the night or am I not going to like the answer?”

Stiles thought his heart was trying to jump out of his throat. “Holy sh-!” He croaked, trying to relearn how to breathe. “Allison, I’m not sneaking in the dark.” The man gestured to the candle with flappy hands. “I was just hungry, I wasn’t doing anything.”

Allison laughed and plopped down in an empty chair. “I’m just teasing you, you’re kind of jumpy. A late night sandwich sounds pretty good, actually. I forgot to eat dinner tonight.” She’d forgotten to eat lunch too, painstakingly rebuilding all of their defenses in what little time they had left. “I’ll make you a deal. You make us both a snack and I won’t tell anyone you screamed like a little girl.”

“Hey, that girl was at least mid-sized,” Stiles huffed, but set about making sandwiches anyway. He wondered if it was his imagination or if everything in the kitchen had gotten bigger since Kira returned. The magical cakes that came out actually seemed to satisfy Scalebutt now. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

"Something like that," Allison said. Collapsing after a day’s work and waking up disoriented and confused wasn’t something she needed to share. "Kira keeps odd hours, too. The spells."

Stiles nodded, focusing too much attention on a sandwich that wasn’t going to bite back. “Allison, you’re a princess, right?” He asked, and she snorted at him. “I mean! You’ve… Ridden into battle, as a princess.”

"Yeah," she answered, thinking about how long it had taken him to drop her title when addressing her. "What of it?"

Stiles’s shoulders slumped, and he forgot how to spread meat over bread, quietly shredding greens between his fingers. This was shaping up to be the most impressive sandwich he’d ever makes, but he would gladly set it on fire to guarantee a night’s sleep. “I keep dreaming about the mage. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

What he missed was the dreams he used to have, the ones of sunny skies and endless laughter. The last one he remembered clearly, he and his friend had been at a stream, skipping rocks until Stiles tumbled into the mud screaming. “Scott, Scott look it’s a toadleward!” They chased after the slimy amphibian for yards before he made the prince lick it. “It makes your head spin. It’s awesome!” Twenty minutes later, Scott asked him if the ground was made of dragons. (There was one with a storm and the sweetest touch Stiles never knew.)

"I’d ask Dragon, but I don’t want him to think that I regret it." He cracked a smile. "Don’t tell him I call him Dragon. I think Scalebutt’s really grown on him."

It had.

Allison regarded him carefully. He definitely wasn’t a knight then, or perhaps he was just the best actor she would ever meet. “It gets better in time,” she admitted. “But you never forget them, not your first kills.”

She’d been trained for battle, as was expected of a lady of the court and a daughter of Princess Victoria, but Allison had never really understood what it meant to survive one until the curse started, and fighting for their lives became a daily struggle. The first time it happened, she’d never got to ask her would-be rescuer’s name. The knight had raised his mace against Scott, actually denting gloriously bright scales, and Allison had run out of ideas.

"Who are you, really, Fainty?" She asked softly; she hadn’t expected him to whirl around and stare.

"Oh." It took him a moment to understand her question, and when he did, Stiles wanted to laugh. "We uh - never met formally, before this. I’m Grzegorz of the Stilinskis. My father’s Earl John. Most people call me Stiles though; it’s less lame.”

That was surprisingly easy, disarmingly so. “Then why didn’t you ever tell us?” Allison asked, the wrong sort of exasperated.

"No one asked?" Stiles shrugged, thankful for the darkness that hid the blush that crawled up his face. The princess wanted to shake him. It was harder to admit that he had more success being Fainty than being his father’s son. "Shit, I didn’t mean to like, cause trouble. It just never came up? And Dragon doesn’t have a name-name, so I thought. I dunno. He uses the name I gave him, and I use his."

“Dragon has a name-name.” Allison said quietly. “He just doesn’t like to use it much anymore. It reminds him too much of the person he used to be. I keep telling him that he’s still the same person inside and one of the best men I’ve ever known in my entire life, but he doesn’t see it that way. It’s hard when you only see yourself as a monster.” She sighed, resting her head in her arms. Scott was the innocent one in all of this, their romance had been dwindling as her grandfather struck and he’d had his humanity stripped from him for no reason. He was just a casualty of Gerard’s greed. She was bound to this castle, but at least she was still human, still herself. He had everything taken away from him and didn’t even see himself as the same person anymore. For that reason alone, Gerard deserved to die. Allison didn’t offer any more information about who Scott used to be. It was a private sort of pain and for someone who tried so hard to be strong for others, she wouldn’t expose his most vulnerable secrets.

“I know you want to help, but you shouldn’t get involved in this. It’s not your fight and it’s going to be really dangerous. Struggling to sleep when you still see their faces is hard, but multiply that but a hundred or a thousand. People are going to die and their lives are going to be on our hands forever. It’s my kingdom and it’s my responsibility to do whatever I have to do to protect as many people as I can and make sure that my grandfather can’t hurt any more innocents, you don’t need that kind of weight on you. You can just go home. We’ll give you gold for your trouble or…Dragon said something about you wanting a title. I can’t do that until I take back the throne anyways.”

Maybes and future plans, it was impossible to make any promises until she knew what the board would look like. She was playing blind, trying to beat her grandfather at a game he’d spent his entire life perfecting with a mage running herself ragged and a pacifist dragon. If she actually let herself think about the odds, she’d start wondering if she was crazy for even trying. “Hey.” Allison gestured towards Stiles’s hands. “You keep that up and the only thing we’ll be snacking on are crumbs.”

Stiles froze at the revelation, jerking his hands away like he’d been zapped. He smushed pieces of bread on top of one another to get it over with, ruining his glorious sandwich masterpiece and busied himself with finding a couple of flagons of water. He called Scalebutt a great dragon. That was awful.

"I have to try something, Allison. I can’t just let you guys-"

"We appreciate what you’ve done for us, Gr- Grez-"

"Stiles."

“Stiles.” Allison said, silencing rather than encouraging him. “We appreciate your help. We owe you a great deal, but this isn’t your fight. That’s enough.”

The noble stared, openly stunned and unhappy, but at this point, intervening could mean compromising their plan, and that wasn’t a risk he was going to take. “I don’t want Dragon to get hurt, or any of you.”

"That’s not something we can stop. We most probably will." Allison said, like being able to voice her concerns meant that she’d accepted them. "But we’re doing what we need to help our odds, and we’re not going to back down."

She watched him struggle for a response, already halfway through her snack. She couldn’t keep missing meals, she silently chided. There was no sense wasting away before a battle. “Was it worth it all?” She asked. “Your title. You were going to fight a dragon for it.”

Stiles’s scowl only made her smile brighten, and Allison was only a little pleased when he relented, accepting an excuse to stop arguing. It was late.

"I think so." Stiles chuckled, low in his throat as he drowned himself in sandwich. "I thought it was a way I’d get to meet someone, but I dunno.”

"Not me?" Allison asked dryly,

"No," Stiles bit out, wincing preemptively, and at least it seemed the princess was enjoying her part in the conversation. "Someone. An old friend. Apparently he only associates with nobility or - or something." Smooth, Stiles. “Actually, you might know him.” He added, realizing for the first time how much potential he’d wasted in postponing this conversation, a strain of panic creeping into his tone. “Scott of the Delgados? Prince Scott. Have you ever heard of him?”

Allison froze, sandwich halfway to her mouth as she stared at Stiles in shock before putting her head down and laughing until she couldn’t breathe. Brunette curls pooled around her and tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh…oh my god. You came all this way to fight a dragon and rescue me for Scott?! Oh no, that’s too much.” The universe had a sick sense of humor. No wonder Scott and Stiles got along so well if they were actually friends and neither one of those idiots had thought about properly introducing themselves to each other and saving themselves the headache. This was typical, Allison was going to have a very long talk with Scott about his stubborn streak.

The Princess finally managed to get her very un-princess like giggles under control, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, yes. I definitely know Scott. Always does the right thing, ready to help everybody, really terrible sense of humor but the absolute sweetest brown puppy eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life, Scott. I’ve known him for a very long time, we’re pretty close. In fact, we used to actually be together briefly before this whole mess.” And Kira. She didn’t mention the mage, but thoughts of her were written across Allison’s smile.

Stiles couldn’t help but gape, not sure whether to be ecstatic or jealous at Allison’s admission. She’d known Scott this entire time, why had it taken so long for him to bring this up? Besides the inherent embarrassment of trying to carry her off to impress a boy from his childhood who might not even remember him. “Is he… how is he? Is he okay? Is he-” Stiles had too many questions that Allison probably would never be able to answer.

“Slow down!” The Princess held up her sandwich like it was a scepter. “Last time I saw Scott, he was fine. If you’d really do all this for a chance to talk to him again, I’m sure I can make that happen, no battles or rescues necessary. How did you even meet him?”

"We were friends. My Dad was taking a tour of Fedelren, and we met the Delgados, and are you sure he’s fine? How is he? Do you think -” Would he care that Stiles didn’t have a title? That was just his goober of a father, right? It had to be. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was having a heart attack or not, but he really hoped he didn’t die before he got to meet Scott again. That was ridiculous.

"Maybe you can send him a letter?" Stiles asked hopefully. That way, he could ride for the Delgados, the memory of eagles nipping at the back of his mind. The noble was immediately guilty for asking. Allison, Kira and Dragon faced a difficult journey up ahead and all he could think about was the end of his quest. "Or I could deliver a letter? If that’s - can you do that?"

Allison met his gaze solemnly, and burst into another fit of giggles. She couldn’t remember laughing so much in months. Stiles looked like she’d kicked a puppy. Like she’d kicked Scott.

"Oh. Oh yes, certainly," she answered, wrangling out some semblance of a formal response. "Actually, I’ll get some parchment now. Just - stay here. Keep the lantern running. And a quill, I have to…"

She was still giggling as she walked away, mouth full of sandwich and not at all apologetic, jogging most of the way. Allison had never set foot into Scott’s caverns; they were his territory as much as her rooms were hers, but she would never have a better reason.

"Scott?" She called out at the entrance, her voice echoing along the large chamber. In her haste, she hadn’t thought to bring a lamp, but it didn’t matter now. "Scott!"

The dragon was curled possessively around his hoard, smoke curling lazily from his nostrils and hanging in clouds around the ceiling of the cave. His prized belongings were few, but he’d done his best to make the cave homey from a dragon’s perspective. He’d polished the metal lovingly until it shone, catching the glow from the low burning embers of a firepit in the corner that kept the entire cave almost uncomfortably warm. Shiny bits of glass were hung around the walls, but none high enough to show the dragon his reflection. He didn’t want to see himself like this. He knew where every piece in the tiny pile fit, embarrassed by his almost obsessive need to collect and protect these stupid trinkets.

Scott rumbled in alarm at the voice, sliding away from the pile of stolen goods and trying to block Allison from seeing any more of his lair. “What’s going on, are you okay?! Why are you here, are we under attack?”

The Princess squashed her curiosity to peek around the dragon’s flank and reached out to pat his nose soothingly. “No, we’re fine. I’m sorry I scared you.” Even with his dragon’s face, Scott could look so worried and Allison was sorry. “What do you know about someone named Stiles Stilinski?”

Green scales glittered with flashes of deep blues and violets as he tipped his head to better look at the young woman. “How do you know that name? He was… is a friend from when I was little. Allison, what does he have to do with anything?”

“Is he someone you trust?”

Scott thought about laughing on rooftops and chasing grasshoppers in tall grass and the way his toes curled at the barest brush of lips across his own. “Yeah, but why?”

"Would he be the sort of person to try and rescue a princess from a dragon, to earn a title so he could talk to you again?" Allison asked, eyes twinkling with mischief like they used to when she helped Scott sneak out of his own palace. "Hypothetically!"

Scott was floored. The urge to laugh, to scream bubbled up in Allison’s throat, but she only jumped on when a large but gentle hand curled around her middle and Scott helped her onto his back. They’d only done this a handful of times. Dragons weren’t made for riding. No one made saddles big enough to accommodate them, and they could fly so fast, the wind would crush their riders, but they were trying now.

Stiles hadn’t forgotten him! He’d come all the way here looking to fight a dragon just to be able to talk to him again. That stupid, brave boy. He was still so reckless. Scott should have known, the way Fainty had smiled was always so familiar and he’d trusted the man sooner than he should. He’d never been good at making friends except for that one he’d already had, even if Scott hadn’t recognized him. Ugh, why hadn’t Stiles just said who he was? What didn’t Scott just admit his name? Scalebutt… of course Stiles would have thought of that nickname.

The Princess clung to his back as he scrambled through the caves up to the castle. Now this was the way a real warrior should ride into battle! She laughed as the wind whipped through her hair wondering if they should charge into battle like this with her in shining armor and firing her bow at the soldiers below. It would be kind of a badass entrance. “Allison, where is he?” The dragon’s voice broke through her dramatic daydreams and she leaned down to yell back towards his ears.

"In the kitchens making a mess. C’mon, Scott. I want to go faster!"

The castle had never seen so large and so small all at once. Scott knocked away half of its already haphazardly placed furniture, but they couldn’t get there fast enough. Kira’s voice was a gentle thing, dulcet and sweet like the ring of a bell, but it had never sounded so sinister.

"That’s right, a fever," the mage said, occupying the seat Allison had vacated. She held Stiles’s hand across the table, and the candlelight wasn’t the reason her skin seemed to glow. "It was terrible. You don’t know where you’ve been for the last week or how far you’ve gone, but when I found you. Oh. Guys?"

Her expression clouded with concern, shrinking away from the pair that all but charged the kitchen, but Stiles didn’t move. Brown eyes had gone glassy and his face was drained of all emotion.

His last thought had been about the letter he’d ask Allison to pen. He was convinced that he could get Scott to aid her in her battle. With a lock of her hair, or more convincingly a sword, he could ask their old friend for troops when they marched against Gerard. That way, he’d be able to pay back the debt he owed the occupants of Blackheart Castle, and maybe he’d be able to casually, completely casually, mention that Scott’s old lady love had found a pretty mage and he’d never be able to compete ever, but Stiles was single. Stiles’ daydreams had drifted to pretty dangerous territory when Kira came in, asking him if he’d wanted a shot of juice before her big trip to the Argent Citadel. Then everything stopped.

"I’m almost done - is something wrong?"

Scott barreled into the hall, trying to keep himself from sliding across the stone floor and knocking anything over in his excitement. “Stiles?” The dragon sounded frantic, wrapping his tail around the young man and dragging him, chair and all, closer to his snout. “Stiles! It’s Scott, it’s me. Kira, what did you do?!”

Allison slid down the smooth scales of Scott’s arm, landing heavily on the stone floor. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, I just got him ready to go home. That was the plan right?” The mage looked from Allison’s stricken expression to the dragon’s quiet pleading and her heart sank. This was part of the plan; Allison had been adamant that they stick to the plan! She’d finished the spell to take his memories and thought it better to get it over with as quickly as possible so the knight would be well on his way home before they launched their attack. They’d already made the decision to go ahead. “Was I-…wasn’t I supposed to? We’d already planned this, I just got the last of the spell right tonight. Allison, wasn’t I supposed to do this? Did I do something wrong?”

The princess wrapped her arms around Kira before the mage could panic. “You didn’t know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Oh Scott, I’m so sorry.”

Scott tipped the human’s head up with a gentle touch of his tail, giant yellow eyes sad. “Look at me, Stiles. It is you, right? It’s Prince Scott, I swear it’s actually me. Kira…what’s wrong with him.” You came all this way because of me, please see me?

Stiles lurched forward when the chair moved, bumping against the dragon’s snout, but he didn’t make to get back up, letting the dragon moved him as he pleased.

"I saw Prince Scott?" he confirmed, voice gravel rough like he was recovering from a cold.

"I just - I, I just." There wasn’t much that could shake the mage, but the fact that she could have hurt her friends was high on that list. "I’m rewriting his memories," she said. "It’s part of the spell, so he doesn’t lose time? He’s fine! He’s just very suggestible right now."

"Is it permanent? Can you reverse the spell?" Allison asked, but she refused to let go of her sweet girl.

Kira’s brows furrowed with concern. “Possibly? I don’t know for sure. I’ll have to consult the scrolls. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

"Can we leave him like this until you reverse it?"

"I wouldn’t? The less time non-magics spend in a trance, the safer." Kira frowned, looking between the pair.

The dragon’s expression crumbled, and his tail flicked over his old friend’s face. “Is it you, Stiles?” He asked again, voice soft. “Do you remember Walnut Creek?”

"I am Stiles. I remember Walnut Creek." The noble answered. "Prince Scott licked the toadleward." His father had come down pretty hard on them after their afternoon of hallucinations. They’d clung to each other through most of them, laughing too loud and sobbing with glee. Stiles blinked once, slowly. "Prince Scott never wrote back."

“You wrote to me.” Scott said the words like they were something precious. “I didn’t know, no one ever told me. I didn’t get any letters or I’d have written back, I would have! You didn’t forget me.” The dragon wished more than anything that he had hands to actually touch the human. “He wrote to me.” He looked up at the women like they had any idea how important it was that Stiles had tried to reach him.

“I can try to see if we can undo it?” Kira offered softly, but she wasn’t sure how successful they’d be. Once memories were gone, they were gone. You couldn’t just pull them back from the ether.

“Please try.” Scott didn’t let go, tail wrapped down Stiles’s body like he was afraid the man would disappear if he released him. “I missed you. I need you to know who I am.” This wasn’t fair, glassy brown eyes didn’t see anything no matter how Scott pleaded.

“I need you to let him go.” Allison tried to coax the dragon’s tail away from Stiles so Kira could get to work. She’d thought Scott would be happy to see his friend again, she had no idea it would end up breaking his heart and she was so sorry. “Kira’s going to try, but we have to let her work. We don’t want to get in the way and do something to hurt Stiles, right?”

“N-no.” The tail unknotted and Scott slunk backwards, trying to give them as much room as he could without leaving the hall. “Bring him back?”

"I’ll do my best," Kira promised. She worked until day broke, calling books and instruments from her room, balancing thread after thread of madness until her head spun as she tried to undo the power of her own spell. Her energy flowed through her senses, like recognizing like, but that just made it all the clearer when her options ran out. She tried her hardest. It just wasn’t enough.

Outside the castle, the sun was at its peak. The mage emerged, dizzy and exhausted, and her princess wrapped an arm around her all too soon, giving Kira someone to lean on.

"It can’t be undone," she apologized. "But I have the rest of his memories to write. We could tell him the truth?" Or something like it. Stiles wouldn’t have the originals ever again, and Kira had no way of knowing the full effect of his prolonged time in a trance.

"Scott." Allison started. "Maybe this is a good thing. You know who he is now. You know where to find him, once this is over. He’ll be safe, just like we said, and if it doesn’t go as it should…" He won’t have anyone to mourn.

The dragon looked between them, curling in on himself like he could find a way to seal the cracks that burned through his chest. It felt like his ribs were crumbling, and each breath turned into a battle he wasn’t sure he wanted to win. He’d dreamed about Stiles for months and never understood the significance. What if this was the last of his humanity he was saying goodbye to?

"Can I give him a memory?" He asked eventually, and the mage nodded, moving out of his path.

Stiles sat exactly as he’d been left, oblivious to the world around him. It was a cruel sort of mercy.

"Stiles?" Scott started, his tail coming up to curl around his friend’s legs, not pulling just touching. The dragon scratched terrifying claws across his shoulders, until they sounded like clashing swords, but bright green scales that changed color with the light fell to the ground. Scott picked the biggest one, and pushed it to the boy’s feet. "You met a dragon when you were traveling. You were his friend, but he had to go away. He gave you his scale because he’d miss you, and you promised… You promised if he needed a place to stay, he would find your barn with the red roof. And you would be his friend again."

"I met a dragon." Stiles repeated, and Scott wished he’d never woken up that night.

“I’ll find you again, I promise I will.” The dragon swore softly, tracing the very tip of his tail down the curve of Stiles’s face. The boy he knew was still there in the smile and freckles, though he’d grown into himself in ways that surprised Scott. In his mind they were both children, so he never looked for his friend in this stranger, but Scott could see him now. It should have been clearer, he should have known soon enough to keep him. No one else had ever made him laugh so hard even when things felt bleak. Stiles hadn’t even been that frightened, more curious about a giant potentially deadly dragon than anything. And the dreams…was it his subconscious that had recognized his friend and was playing out the maybes and could-haves he’d wanted for so long or did it have something to do with the magic of this place?

He should be used to losing things by now, but he never seemed to get used to how much it hurt. If Stiles had forgotten him, then Scott would make sure to remember every detail to tell him later. Stiles would laugh and wouldn’t believe him at first, but Scott could just imagine his face when he’d realize it was true. He’d laugh about how they failed at fishing or the way Scott would lie in the great hall with his mouth open and try to catch sweets with his tongue as Stiles threw them up in the air. _You grew up. You weren’t allowed to do that without me._

Scott didn’t want to leave, so sure that once Stiles was gone, he’d be gone forever. It felt too much like a last chance, but there wasn’t a choice. Since when did he ever have a choice? They couldn’t lose now, there was finally someone out there waiting for him and the dragon had made a promise. Slowly, he pulled away, wings pinned tight to his body like he was trying to make himself disappear.

“You’ll take care of him, right? You’ll make sure he gets home?”

Kira nodded, feeling miserable. “He’ll be safe, I’ll make sure he’s away from here before anything happens.”

“Scott, are you okay?” Allison wanted to keep the dragon from retreating, but he shied away from her.

“I’m okay.” He lied like always. “I just want to go. I need some air.” He made his escape, slipping back down into his dark solitary caverns beneath the castle and burying himself in useless trinkets to try and forget what it was like to be human.

 

"How did it go?" Allison asked, when Kira returned some time later, once the mage was curled into her arms, weighed down with fatigue and regret but unwilling to give up on their reunion. Kira wound her arms around her princess’s waist, pressing her face into the crook of the other woman’s neck, but she still gasped in surprise when Allison lifted her like she weighed nothing.

"The memories took. We spoke a lot on the way back. He thinks I cured his sickness," Kira mumbled sadly. Allison hummed her encouragement, rubbing along her partner’s back as she made her way to the couch. The castle was almost too quiet now. She was okay with being like this with Kira. "I set him on the main path after the Fields of Solace. Gave him a sword. He’ll be home soon… He really liked his dragon scale."

Kira asked without words, and Allison just shook her head. The dragon had been distant ever since Fainty - ever since Stiles left, but they were as prepared as they were going to be.

"I need some rest," Kira confessed solemnly. "Then I can start the severing spells… You’ll be able to head home soon, too."

Allison forgave the mage of her lingering guilt, soft lips writing prayers into every inch of Kira’s skin until the woman finally relaxed beneath her touch. So much of their plan hinged on Kira’s abilities and the Princess knew she carried so much anxiety that her magic would fail or that she’d somehow let them down. “Sleep for now, that’s all you need to do.”

Kira smiled at her warrior, strong in all the ways she needed and found her absolution.

Beneath the castle, the dragon finally crept out of the caves and climbed easily up the sheer vertical rock of Castle Blackheart’s highest tower. He wrapped his body around the rooftop and looked to the west, a pitch black silhouette cut out of the moon. If he let himself imagine, he thought he might have even seen a small speck on the horizon riding slowly down winding roads and lost in the night. He stretched his wings, one whole and catching the breeze and the other nothing more than scarred spines that tried in vain to lift with the wind.

It had always been about helping Allison. She was the one who’d taught him how to love and even though it hadn’t lasted the way he always dreamed it would, she’d shown him he was capable of such intense connections with other people after a lifetime alone. He would always be grateful. He’d never blamed her for what happened to them, this was all Gerard’s cruelty and he would struggle to the bitter end to save Allison even if he couldn’t save himself, but for the first time he had something that he wanted. Even more than seeing his home again or winning back his humanity, there was someone out there who had been willing to risk death to see him again. He wouldn’t do any less.

Scott was tired of grieving, it was time to fight.

 


	10. Tail of Two Cities

In another town, a lifetime away, a traveler with a greedy donkey had found companionship with a trio of former bards, or at least, two of them were bards; the tall one with curly hair was probably some sort of rabid clown. Stiles disliked Isaac almost as much as Isaac disliked him, but the bards had a wagon, and Stiles paid to ride, and Boyd was the sort of man who could appreciate a person who paid before accepting services. Erica mostly let him stay for entertainment purposes; watching him and Isaac whine was her second favorite pastime, and the stranger had interesting stories.

"Could you quit it with the dragon scale!" Isaac snapped, and yes, Stiles probably could, but now he wasn’t going to.

"Why? It sounds like you wanna hear about it again," he snapped, and even if Boyd could probably retell the story in his sleep (with more interesting characterization and tune and a lute accompaniment), he let Stiles go again because Isaac squawked and he might have enjoyed it as much as Erica. But the traveler quieted, looking down the path they traveled with new appreciation. "Hey - we’re not headed east."

"Detour," Erica called from the front of the wagon. "We’re stopping by the Argent Kingdom for supplies, then we’ll head your way. Don’t worry about it."

Stiles didn’t have reason to. The road they were on was obviously well-traveled, and if they’d wanted to butcher him, there would have been so many more places to do so. He could handle a few more delays, anyway. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be, and home was just a few days away. At the taverns, he bought conversations, and everything was more tolerable with a little ale.

Stiles had stories to tell, too, and people listened to him under the assumption that he was as eloquent as the rest of his party. The dragon scale story wasn’t as appreciated as Stiles would have hoped, but there was one person who listened. He listened very closely.

He gave Stiles a gift. One he didn’t know he wanted.

 

 


	11. Release the Dragon

"We should be there, soon!" Kira warned over the rush of wind. Travelling at dragon speeds did not make for easy conversations. "Leave me at the gates! I’ll plant the teeth!"

The Argent’s kingdom was more mountainous than Castle Blackheart’s lake-spotted wilderness, their wealth buried deep in the veins of silver that cross-crossed the rocky ranges. There wasn’t much a dragon could do to hide his size, but the mountains allowed Scott a better vantage of the city below and humans rarely looked up. It was a good sized city, nestled in the green valleys between the mountains where a river cut through the rocks. The castle itself was carved into a cliff-face high above the sprawling metropolis that stretched far down the river before petering out into smaller farms in the distance. It was a prosperous place, beautiful and stark that produced people who were as strong as the mountains they were born to. Hunters, miners, gemsmiths and metalworkers of world renown, no wonder Gerard had refused to give up power.

Scott carefully let the women slip from his back, making a face at the bag full of teeth Kira had “liberated” with a pair of painful pliers and a whole lot of drool. His mouth still felt sore even though the teeth had grown back.

“We can wait here until you do the thing.” Scott couldn’t help but run his long tongue along his fangs with a wince. “Any idea how long it’ll take?”

Kira shrugged. “It shouldn’t be long, you need to both be ready. Once we have an army, there’s not going to be any way to hide. We’re not going to have the element of surprise for long and we need every advantage we can get.” _Because there’s just three of us and we’re absolutely insane for doing this_. “Get some rest for now. As soon as you see the signal, be ready to move.”

“Be careful.” Allison caught the mage by her sleeve, the words an order that she expected to be obeyed.

“Of course!” The dark haired woman beamed, giving the Princess a quick kiss before skipping down the path. Allison stared after her in shock before laughing.

“You really have a type, Allie.” The dragon teased earning him a smack to the snout.

They huddled close together, Allison in her armor, and Scott like a pointy blanket. They didn’t light a fire, wary of who could be watching, and pretended not to watch the kingdom as often as they did, in case Kira’s signal came when they were unaware. Kira had wanted to bring her steed, the only actual noble equine to use Castle Blackheart’s stables, but they’d argued there was nowhere to actually put it.

"Do you think after this is over, it’ll be - over?" Scott asked at length, resting his chin at Allison’s feet. It was the only way he had any chance of looking her in the eye, and this late at night, his own glowed like the moon. "When Gerard’s gone, everyone will just accept it?"

"I don’t know," Allison admitted, maybe more honest than she wanted to be, but this was it. This was where they invited a band to play their anthem and charged in to save the world. And themselves.

That was the best they could hope for.

"If it doesn’t work out," Scott added. "At least you know a place that makes magical cakes you can bribe everyone with?"

Allison groaned loudly, before she shoved him in the face and refused to stop smiling.

“I’m just asking for a friend.” The dragon said, marveling at Allison’s smile. He sometimes forgot how much he loved it, it was too rare these days.

“Right, a big fat green friend.”

“Don’t judge my friends, Allison.” He said seriously. “I only really have you guys. You should be nicer when you talk about yourselves.”

The princess groaned again, resisting the urge to throw a rock at Scott’s head. “You’re lucky I enjoy your terrible sense of humor.”

“You say that like I’ve never heard you make a fart joke.”

“Scott!” The woman feigned outrage, putting a scandalized hand to her mouth. “Princesses never tell vulgar jokes, you shouldn’t go around telling lies. I have a reputation to uphold and no one would believe a gross dragon anyways.”

Scott laughed, letting himself be distracted from his worries as he curled around their barren campsite. “Gross? Oh please, you’ll kick their butts and make them cry for their mothers, I’ve heard you before. Everyone is going to believe this extremely handsome dragon.”

“Sure they are. Why don’t you get some sleep, I’ll keep watch for Kira’s signal and we’ll switch if it gets too late. You see better in the dark anyways.”

He knew better to argue when she used that tone. Allison Argent set the rules and even a dragon could admit defeat.

Scott almost missed the hand that stroked across his brow, feather light and ever so careful. They were friends before they were lovers, and when they stopped being lovers they didn’t stop being friends. No one knew Scott quite like Allison did, and no one knew Allison quite as Scott did, not even Kira.

"All the cake in the kingdom," she promised softly, just above a whisper.

But when the temple steeple in the center of town square suddenly glowed white, Scott jerked awake. They were off.

 

Legends would be told for generations about the dragon that charged down the mountains and the warrior princess at his back, and how the earth shook and parted so that even the spirits could join their cause. Legendary knights draped in armor made of dragon scale, with reptilian features and eyes like snakes rushed behind them, hissing in a language only Scott truly understood. They ran for the castle, while a mage planted more and more at inhuman speeds.

Allison saw a flicker of light in the corner of her eye, and she knew that even as the creatures crashed upon her castle’s gate, Kira was sneaking through the servants’ entrance around the far side.

"Come on!" She roared, raising her bow to stop the soldiers bearing burning tar. "That tower there!"

The army roused itself in defense of the city, but they were slow and terrified by the sight of monstrous warriors led by a beautiful woman on the back of a snarling dragon. Even the bravest soldier cowered before the onslaught and Scott roared loud enough to set a panic. Horses bolted and men scattered as they cut a path through anyone who stood against them. Scott couldn’t look away from the bloodshed, murmuring a prayer of forgiveness for everyone who fell. They were enemies, but human lives all the same.

Fire and ice exploded through the barracks as Kira used the forces of nature to slow down the soldiers. The dragon charged the tower, claws digging gouges in the white stone as he climbed the castle. Allison slid down his arm, leaping through the air and rolling to her feet as she landed through one of the windows. “Scott, keep going! I’ll meet you at the top.” She ordered, bringing down a pair of guards with deadly accuracy, arrows lodged deep in their throats. Kira and the scaled army could handle the soldiers, Allison needed to pay a visit to her family.

Scott continued his climb, hauling himself over a large balcony and into the throne room positioned high in the tower so the Argent rulers could look down over their entire kingdom. Guards rushed to defend their post, but a sweep of the dragon’s tail sent them flying with a crash. He roared again, shattering glass and shaking the castle to its foundation as bits of stone fell from the ceiling.

"Prince Scott." A slow, bored clap greeted the dragon’s entrance, but the King needed barely a whisper to command attention. His guards littered the ground, but Gerard paid them no heed, meeting the dragon’s eyes like Scott couldn’t crush him in half a second. “You’re different from when we last met. More… Feral. You’re really growing into this form.”

He appeared unarmed, just a harmless old man with a face that could be kind. “You and my granddaughter seem to be more trouble than you’re worth - alive.”

“Only one of us here is a monster.” Scott snarled, snapping his tail like a whip. He never wanted to be in the position where he had to kill, but if anyone deserved to die, it was this man who’d taken so much from him and had turned on his own family. It was never about honor. What kind of person could betray their own granddaughter for power? Yellow eyes burned hot, their pupils slit and reptilian. “It’s over, you’re not going to hurt anyone else ever again.”

Between the King’s fingers, he examined a bright, familiar green scale. The dragon froze as it caught the light, emerald and sapphire playing over its surface with brief flashes of the brightest gold. That was his! How had the king gotten his hands on-NO!

Gerard pressed it into a niche in the wall, and suddenly, a ring of fine black powder that surrounded the room flickered with light. It stole the dragon’s strength, the spell tailored for a specific monster. The beast howled as magic beat against his skin, leeching his strength until Scott staggered. He was mage king who had sold everything to work dark magics bought in blood and suffering, Scott should have been prepared.

"It was good to see you again, my boy." The King sneered, stepping aside to reveal his champion. A cruel twist the mage enjoyed. "This will be the last time." The one who would end Scott’s life was someone else, someone who could strike directly at the monster’s heart. An Earl’s son, who was finally dressed as a knight.

As shocked as Scott was over his sudden imprisonment, it was the knight that stole the last of his strength. “Stiles!”

The scale had been a gift and Stiles had given it to Gerard to use against him? Kira had said the memories she’d given him were good ones, why would his friend betray him like this? Scott reared back, flapping his mismatched wings for balance as he tried to batter his way free from the spell. “Stiles, let me go!”

Stiles’s features twisted with bitterness and hatred. It looked like he’d aged decades in the days he’d been gone. Justice and fairness were concepts he could understand though he couldn’t quite believe in them. What strengthened him now was revenge, and white hot anger coursed through his veins like he’d never felt before, so hot it threatened to set his skin aflame. He couldn’t even remember the words Gerard used to start the fire, but they burned with an unnatural rage in his veins. “Get back!”

The sword Stiles wielded glowed an unearthly light, and when he slashed through the air, energy pulsed from it, tearing through the dragon’s scales. Gerard didn’t need his weapon to have good aim, not when he was so sure his targets would come to him. What might as well have been a million miles away, Kira forced the Crown Prince to yield at the end of her staff; and Allison showed her first teacher who had truly mastered the sword, but Gerard had outplayed them all. A few lies, a little power and it was easy to turn the beast’s “friend” against him. A dragon was a formidable creature, but the King knew the true nature of the man within. Scott had revealed his heart to someone, it was easy to whisper poison until Stiles was willing to plunge a blade into it. An enemy the dear sweet Prince Scott would never bring himself to harm.

"He was my friend," the noble ground out, hands shaking ever so slightly. "You will never hurt anyone again."

“What did you do to him?!” That look should never have been on Stiles’s face, it was wrong to see him with so much rage. This wasn’t the fumbling, awkward man on a lazy donkey who’d thought he’d sneak past a sleeping dragon, this was a killer. Scott keened as the glowing blade cut deep into his flesh, slicing through scales like they were nothing. Dark ichor welled in the wound, spilling down to the marbled floor of the throne room. “Stiles, stop!”

“I told you, he’ll try and manipulate you.” The king said with a smile, watching the battle with unabashed glee. Bloodshed for his entertainment, what could be better that crushing his enemies with the most effective weapons against them? It wasn’t enough to just kill, he needed to destroy anyone who dared to stand against him before they were granted the gift of death.

The dragon backed away, stumbling on the slick floor. The spell had taken every bit of his strength, he could barely summon the energy to stand. “Stiles, I’ve never hurt anyone. I know you don’t remember, but we’re friends. You told me that if I didn’t have anywhere to go, that I could find you at your home. The farm with the red roof by the cliffs, you told me about it before, a long time ago when we were kids. I’m Scott, I’m Scott!”

The next attack tore straight through the dragon’s injured wing, breaking it in two as unimaginable pain ravaged his mind.

"YOU KILLED SCOTT!" Stiles roared, but it felt like his heart had been ripped to shreds. The memories Kira had written were kind gifts, but they left a sense of longing that Stiles couldn’t understand, a hopefulness and yearning he happily gave into. He had no reason not to, and they’d built a home in his heart, cold and blackened though he may have pretended to be. He would find his friend again, it was as much a reality as the blue sky. When the King first told him of the dragon’s crimes, Stiles didn’t want to believe it, but Gerard crawled into all the gaps and cracks in his fabricated memories until the story was rewritten. “You don’t get to say his name!”

"What about the birch leaves, Stiles?" The dragon pleaded, serpentine eyes softening with human emotion. He watched the knight waver, and pressed his advantage, pushing as close as he dared even as ichor dripped sluggishly from his wounds. Scott couldn’t see straight, but he couldn’t fight like this. He wouldn’t hurt Stiles. "You made me a crown. You said. You said you were going to marry me. You wrote to me and I never got anything, and I’m Scott. Please believe me."

_Scott?_

The knight held the enchanted sword, ready to strike. This time he would kill.

Stiles turned with a sharp twist, slashing the sharp edged blade at Gerard. Turned on its master, the sword burned in Stiles’s hands, melting flesh like old wax. Stiles dropped it with a scream, but he ran for the wall, trying to retrieve Scott’s scale.

Scott howled his friend’s name, fighting through the pain. He’d been so sure he was going to die and the last thing he’d see was the hatred in Stiles’s face. It had almost broken him, ready to accept the sword instead of fight back and risk hurting the one person he never could, but hope bloomed as Gerard snarled at the betrayal, hands glowing with a pulsing light.

Corruption spread from the dragon’s wounds, black veins crawling up bright scales until they were dull and cracked, bleeding as they spread. It was a weapon fashioned to bring down a monster and Scott could feel the magic eating away at him like a cold poison. He flapped his one wing, the other severed clean off and withering.

“Kill the beast!” The king commanded, readying himself to destroy this foolish boy and his granddaughter’s pet. “He murdered your friend!”

No one else knew about crowns of leaves and promises of marriage given long before they were old enough to really know what it meant beyond simple, innocent love. It didn’t make any sense that this creature could be his Scott, but how else could it have known? Stiles reached for the scale, pulling it free in a burst of power as Gerard slammed his body with bolts of dark magic.

The dragon reared back on his hind legs, towering over the throne room and crashing back down hard enough to shake Gerard off his feet. Scott was freed from his prison and pounced, flinging the king into a wall with a swipe of his claws. “No more! Not one more person!”

“Or what?” The king snarled, blood trickling past his lips and down his chin to smear along the deep violet of his attire. “You’re a monster, go on and kill me. Show me what you’ve become.”

“No.” Scott’s voice grew quiet, control replace his rage. “I’m not the monster. If you die, then you do it because your people demand it and your own law condemns you, not me.” The dragon’s tail whipped out, wrapping around the king’s neck and hauling him off his feet. Gerard gurgled, clawing uselessly against the scales before finally going limp in Scott’s grasp. The dragon laid the man carefully on the stone floor and sank down in his own growing pool of ichor. “See?” He rasped at Stiles. “I told you I don’t eat people.”

The dragon smiled, and Stiles didn’t know if dragons could smile or if that simply meant they were hungry, but he smiled back all the same, chest pounding with adrenaline. This was Scott? How was this Scott? But this was Scott!

It didn’t matter. The dragon collapsed with a choked shudder, ichor coloring his brilliant scales a sickly black, and the ground rumbled when he fell. “Scott!”

Across the throne room, the main doors burst open with a flash of light. Kira’s cloak was torn and dirty, and she was leaning heavily on her princess, but her skin glowed with energy. Allison’s armor was splattered with blood, but the shield she wore finally bore the Argent crest. They were still too far away, and there was no way to mend the dragon’s scales.

"No - no, don’t move," Stiles hissed, wrapping his arms around his long neck, frantically searching for something to stave the bleeding, a curtain, a sheet. He pulled Scott into his arms, suddenly viciously aware of how small and insignificant humans were. There was so much blood. "Scott hold on just. Just hold on, there’s gotta be a way-"

“It’s okay, Stiles. I’m okay.” Scott didn’t know if he was lying or not, he just couldn’t bare to see that look on Stiles’s face. Everything hurt, but they’d won and that’s all that mattered, he’d bear the rest. The dragon curled himself as well as he could around the human without crushing him, wishing again for hands so he could actually hold his friend. “I found you again, everything’s okay now.”

The corruption spread, scales breaking apart like they were brittle and every small movement split new wounds open. Gerard did have to pick the most painful kind of curse, didn’t he? Vindictive son of a bitch. There was something seriously wrong with most of the Argents, it was a shock they’d ever been able to produce a daughter so amazing.

"Shut up, you asshole," Stiles hissed, trying to pull the dragon into his arms. It was a laughable sight. The weight of Scott’s skull could crush him, but Stiles couldn’t stop, not when the sickening snap and crack that echoed through the hall meant more of the dragon’s scales were crumbling. He’d never forget the stench of burning flesh, of magic tearing his friend apart.

"Kira’s right here. She’s right here. Just hold on and and I’ll stop the bleeding, and - please Scott." His voice trembled. Stiles couldn’t help the dragon if he stopped breathing. "Please hold on."

"Scott," Allison called out, terrified, but her eyes were drawn to the unconscious King at her feet. The color drained out of Allison’s face, Kira’s warning resonating in her mind. An armored boot slammed into Gerard’s chest, demanding his attention as he fought for air. She didn’t sound like a princess. She sounded like a queen. "For your crimes of treason against the throne, for the murder of my mother, and for the suffering of my people, you will be put to death."

The blow was quick and clean. The power it released rock the castle to its core. There was light. Then there was nothing.

The blast of magic as Gerard’s death finally severed the blood magic curse was inescapable. It hit Scott like a landslide, barely a moment for him to scream as everything shifted violently and he felt as if his insides were trying to escape out through his skin. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. His bones shattered into shards, his body broke apart and reformed, shrinking and twisting in maddening agony.

 

The light faded and everyone’s ears rang, deafened by the blast. A figure swayed surrounded by dull and gray dragon scales before collapsing limply. He was nude and drenched in sweat, small scales sticking to his dark, damp skin. The sword wound was a clean slice across his shoulder but his smooth flesh was marred with the scars of angry burns that curled up around one shoulder and down one arm to wrap all the way around his back and side to his thigh. He breathed, that task seemed difficult enough.

Stiles was knocked over with the strength of the blast. He screamed, but the sound was lost in the pulse of magic. Kira caught the princess when she was thrown back, a sphere made of molten fire surrounding them, protecting them.

When it was over, Stiles couldn’t believe his eyes.

Scott fell, and Stiles was there to catch him, graceless and not-so-heroic, sliding through ichor and other things he’d rather not think about, but his prince was in his arms and that was all that mattered. He clutched his friend to his chest, letting out an unsteady laugh as he smoothed back his hair, rubbing his sides. He was beautiful, he was perfect, he was his Scott.

Scott’s entire body prickled with pins and needles as unfamiliar muscles tried to remember how to function. He groaned, turning his face towards Stiles and blinking unfocused dark eyes upwards at the other man. He frowned, brows drawn together and lips press in a thin line as he stared in confusion from under a mess of black bangs. “Did you get really big or did I get really small?”

He reached for his friend and stopped, freezing in shock as blunt human hands responded instead of giant deadly claws. Scott flexed his hands and wiggled his fingers, unable to recognize himself. Human? It was over? As much as he believed they’d defeat Allison’s grandfather and restore her kingdom, he never truly believed he’d ever be human again. It had been so long and all he knew was how to be a monster, his own skin feeling strange beneath his fingertips. He touched his face, shaking as he traced features he barely remembered that seemed so soft without his armored scales. Hands trailed lower, reacquainting himself with his body and marveling at the feel of muscles moving beneath his skin and the how sensitive everything felt now that he’d been stripped completely raw. “Stiles.” The name was whispered in disbelief as the prince threw his arms around the other man’s neck and held on with a shaking, anguished laugh. “Oh my god…I really need some pants.”

The noble didn’t stop staring, taking in the prince’s stubby little fingers and his crooked jaw, and a smile that could blind the sun. Scott was warm and soft in his arms, compact like a dragon couldn’t be and gentle like no one person ever managed.

"No you don’t," Stiles whispered, and burst into giggles. He hugged Scott tight, like he wanted to crush all his sensitive bones, trying to keep him safe from the rest of the world. It happened as swiftly as the first time, the urge creeping through his mind like a thief in the knight, and when Stiles stole the prince’s first human kiss in so long, he didn’t regret it.

“What?” Scott barely managed to get the question out before he was being kissed and the world crumbled beneath him for the second time in a matter of minutes. Their friendship had been a child’s devotion and innocent promises given before he even knew what they meant, but nothing about the sudden longing he felt was childish now. He cupped the other man’s face, kissing him like Scott could memorize every inch of his mouth, the feel of his hands, the heat against his bare skin that flushed as he realized this was real.

"Gross," Allison whispered, from across the room, leaning heavily on her mage, as Kira pressed even closer. The princess’s arms were shaking. There were tears running down her cheeks, but her smile was victorious.

"Come on," Kira warned. "You know you want to hug him, too."

Scott pulled back, staring in shock with slick, parted lips as questions and doubts knotted on his tongue. He hadn’t meant…what did he mean? Everything was suddenly so confusing and he tried to stammer out something intelligent, but Allison tackled him in a hug that almost knocked him flat. “Ooomf! Ow, armor. Ow, Allison, I’m naked!”

“It’s not the first time, now shut up.” She teased through her tears. Kira pounced on them both, not wanting to be left out and Scott ended up flat on his back beneath the pile. “We did it!”

Stiles was left dumbstruck, his fingers pressing against his lips like he could remind himself where Scott had been that way. They were swooped up in a celebration no one wanted to come down from yet, and Stiles didn’t care if he wasn’t meant to be part of it. He just wished it didn’t feel like he was still missing something important.


	12. Moby Dick (STILES STOP MESSING WITH THE CHAPTER TITLES)

Word spread overnight not only that Princess Alison had returned, but that her imprisonment had been the work of her grandfather, the former king. Civilians stepped out of their houses as dawn, terrified of what they saw, but so many were shocked to learn that the only casualties of the war had been soldiers. The survivors couldn’t speak about their enemies, at least not without being pried with ale, and if there were any loyal to Gerard, they had the good sense to remain hidden. The Crown Princess, Katherine, was imprisoned, and her brother Chris held in chains.

Envoys were sent to the Delgado Kingdom almost instantly and for the first time in longer than he could remember, Scott found himself resting in a bed, an actual bed with four posters and a canopy and all the fluffy pillows he couldn’t melt through.

Allison had her work cut out for her, but when she reentered her bedroom, she cried like a child. She had a kingdom to put back together. Cutting off a monster’s head tended to make a mess.

They left Scott alone. Even if he and Kira quickly became the subject of intrigue, for gossip and politics went hand in hand, no one pestered the prince, and he was mostly given free reign of the Argent Citadel, even if the servants tended to stare when he walked by.

Scott wanted to help, but Allison insisted that she needed to handle the transition herself. She was the heir and her people needed to see that she was strong enough to take control. It would reassure them to know she was capable and compassionate while the influence of a foreign prince would just make them nervous. He had no doubt she’d inspire her people to follow her rule, everyone loved Allison Argent. It was impossible to do anything else. As much as he wanted to support her, he gave her space to piece back her kingdom while he did his best to relearn his humanity in private before his mother’s escorts could take him home.

Walking was more of a challenge than he remembered and Scott found himself barely able to stay on his feet without his tail for balance. Clothes were nice though, he felt like he was an exposed nerve without his scales. Human skin was sensitive to every touch and he loved the warm velvets and cool whisper of silk against his body. It had been a long time since he’d dressed like a prince, but the servants were generous to the mysterious royal who’d helped save the kingdom as a fearsome dragon. The scars that marred his back and side were new and Scott had frowned as he studied himself in the mirror before deciding they were fairly won. The skin was rough except for the shiny smooth line of red that ran from his shoulder blade down to the small of his back.

He practiced how to move, laughing as he held on to the wall and counted out the steps. The servants thought he was strange, but he just smiled and kept putting one foot in front of the other. Stiles was somewhere in the citadel and just knowing he was close set Scott’s heart racing. The prince could still feel the touch of his lips and felt more like he was flying now than he ever had when he’d had wings. One maid pointed him towards Stiles and giggled as he almost toppled over trying to bow to her. It wasn’t easy finding the right door, everything felt so big now that he wasn’t towering over it and he managed to lose himself three times before Scott banged his hand on the dark oaken wood. “Stiles, open up!”

Stiles opened the door to an armful of royalty, and decided that opening all doors should end the same way. He stumbled back with a muffled squeak, but held on with stubborn determination. If he was going down, Scott was going down with him.

While the rest of the group undoubtedly spent their time trying to piece together what remained of their lives, Stiles remained holed up in his room _not sulking_. So not sulking! The servants didn’t gossip to his face. He might not have been much of a noble, but they were professionals, and for a while, he was certain people thought of him as ‘other,’ like the skillful mage who fought with light magic and a bright smile, or the mysterious royal skin-walker with the sweetest eyes and unlimited power. He was just a fighter, he tried to clarify once. “Like Princess Allison?” had been the response, genuinely concerned but a little hesitant, and Stiles looked between him and princess and realized he’d be confused by that comparison too. There wasn’t a seat for ‘friendly neighborhood brainwash victim’ at the hero table though, so maybe there was some sulking.

That didn’t stop him from pressing his face into Scott’s neck, and acknowledging that he was reaching new levels of creep, achievements unlocked.

"Dude! Hey, they found you clothes," he greeted, trying to hold the Prince at arm’s length and failing miserably. Instead hooked an arm around Scott’s waist, and guided him towards a chair.

“They even kind of fit, I think I’m kind of dashing.” Scott said excitedly, letting himself be lead towards the plush chair and plopping down on the overstuffed cushion. “I fell twice on the way over!” He sounded so proud of that fact. “I’m getting used to walking on two feet again, it’s a lot harder than you think it is. I never thought I’d actually miss having a tail.”

He knew he was babbling, but he was happy and couldn’t stop smiling. It was awkward to sit face to face with his childhood friend after so long and run his mouth because he didn’t know what to say. Everything had been easier when Stiles had been Fainty, just some stranger that made him laugh and reminded him what it was like to have a friend. There weren’t any expectations or memories or years of questions that threatened to burst from his mouth. “They, ah…they sent a message home to my mom. They’re going to send a delegation down I’m sure and then I can go back. I never ever thought I’d be able to.” Leaving Allison was going to be difficult, they’d been stuck together with magic, but that part of it had never felt like a curse. She’d been the only one he’d had for so long, it was strange to think he’d go anywhere without her.

"I dunno, dude, I still think green’s your color," Stiles critiqued, but Scott’s smile was infectious. It was an airborne virus with a 99% morbidity rate, and Stiles didn’t know how to fight it. He didn’t want to fight it, when symptoms included tingling everywhere and the desperate urge to reach out and touch and maybe get Scott to laugh some more. The closer he got, the more he wanted to reach out and smooth back the prince’s hair. “That’s friggin awesome. Bet your folks are going nuts. Someone’s gonna have to teach you how to walk, though, and I’m not volunteering for that, but I can maybe volunteer to tip you over every when you’re all wobbly.”

“What about you? Are you going home? If you don’t mind, maybe you could come visit me. I don’t think you need a title anymore.”

Stiles’s expression shifted, just a little. “What title?”

He didn’t remember. Scott’s smile crumbled around the edges and he rubbed his fingers along the arms of the chair. Was this something he could explain? “Promise me you won’t freak out?”

"You were a dragon. How much worse can it be?" Stiles laughed. He kind of wished he hadn’t.

The prince wiggled to the edge of the chair, worrying his lip between his teeth. “You don’t remember the time we met. You came to rescue Allison from the evil dragon so you could win yourself a title. You told me that you had a friend you wanted to talk to but you couldn’t unless you actually had a title of your own.”

The prince shifted uncomfortably, it was strange having spent so much time together that Stiles would never know. “I didn’t recognize you, but you ended up staying and you made me laugh all the time. After a day or so, you weren’t even scared of me anymore though your donkey ran into a wall every time I tried to feed him. You even saved my life from a mage when the castle was under attack.” He pulled the velvet sleeve up his arm, exposing the scarred flesh. “Allison and Kira thought that we needed to send you home and take your memories away from you to protect our plan but then… I found out you were you, but it was too late. We couldn’t undo it and I had to watch you leave.” Scott hesitated, wringing his hands nervously. “I had all these dreams about you, I should have known…”

Confusion gave way to disbelief, then anger and frustration, and Stiles looked like he was really constipated by the end of it. He scrubbed his hands through his hair, scowling at the prince before he tried to force the expression off his face. They’d been betrayed by King fucking Gerard. They had no reason to trust some guy on a donkey.

"You took my memories?" He still accused. "No way, I’ve never been on - on a quest. Or anything like that." It was a shitty excuse and they both knew it. Patches of Stiles’s mind seemed fuzzy and disoriented, no matter how he tried to rationalize his trip. For the life of him, he didn’t know why he left his home, and hearing that it was all for Scott really wasn’t more surprising than the whole dragon thing.

"What dreams?" He shouldered on, but Stiles wouldn’t stop fidgeting. "So. What. Are we friends? What about?" _I kissed you. What about that?_

“I didn’t know, Stiles! By the time I found out who you were, Kira had already cast the spell and I tried to have them undo it, but she couldn’t. She said she gave you nice memories though and I gave you my scale so you’d have something to remember me by even if you really didn’t.” That didn’t turn out so well.

“We were friends!” He was quick to reassure the other man. “Sure, you were convinced I was going to eat you for a while, but you got over it. You called me Scalebutt, and I named you Fainty because you, uh…Allison knocked you out. We went fishing and we were terrible and I kind of stole all your money. I’m sorry about that, I had this weird compulsion about shiny things, it was really embarrassing.”

Scott looked miserable, wearing his guilt uncomfortably. If he’d only gotten to Stiles sooner, if he’d only been able to recognize him. If he only knew what the dreams meant. He settled back in his chair, subconsciously trying to escape. “I dreamed about you back when we were kids. I guess there must have been some part of me that knew who you were. We’d talk and fight and it felt so real.”

And when Scott wasn’t happy, it felt like someone punched Stiles in the gut, ripped out all his gross parts and draped them across a wall. He edged closer, drawn by a magnetism he could never deny, not even when the prince had been bigger than most village houses and thrice as sparkly. Their shoulders bumped and so did their knees, and their elbows, and Stiles couldn’t figure out why he ought to move away.

"Dude, if I saw a dragon, I’d probably’ve fainted," he shrugged, smile tentative like he was trying to bait Scott into a full-fledged grin. When he was rewarded, he was so happy he nearly fell off his chair. "How’d I fight you? You were like a mountain."

"No, in the dreams," Scott clarified, elbowing Stiles back, and they squirmed in their seats, not actually trying to move away from each other, just finding all the places they fit.

Stiles wrinkled his nose, and accused. “Dragons can’t fish.”

"It’s not like you could do any better." Scott snorted, and for a moment, Stiles was sure he ought to have expected a puff of smoke to waft around him, and he didn’t know why. "I tried to fly out on the lake and roar them at you! You said it would work. I kinda fell in."

Stiles laughed with his entire body, like happiness sneaked up on him, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

"Oh and this one time we found out the kitchens wouldn’t stop making cakes so we tried to see if I could catch them in the air with only my tongue, and Allison made you clean everything up." Scott beamed, pride swelling in his chest every time he got the other boy to laugh. "So we’re okay?" He asked, so very hopeful and just a tinge desperate. He couldn’t get Stiles his memories back; they’d tried. But Scott really wanted to ask if they could make more.

All at once, Stiles looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, and his ankles became endlessly fascinating. “What about - the um. After the dragon changing? Are we okay?”

The after dragon changing… oh. Scott felt his skin heat and tried not to let his embarrassment show. It took all of his willpower not to bring his fingers to his mouth as if he could still feel his friend’s lips on his. They’d been children, they were too young to understand anything about need or longing. He’d never really thought… or had he? He’d been so lonely when Stiles had gone away, wanting his friend to come back. All he wanted was to laugh like they had when they were together, getting into trouble and wrestling until someone lost a tooth. The dreams had been the same, that missing piece that could always make him smile.

Now he couldn’t get the kiss out of his head. So much better for being real, leaving his imagination pale in comparison, only made it worse. It was a confusing twist thrown into a relationship that was at once familiar and new. Stiles wasn’t that little boy anymore, they’d grown up into new people. He wasn’t even Fainty. They’d been friends and it was like they’d just met, but Stiles had kissed him and he had no idea what it meant or what he should do.

“Yeah.” He murmured. “We’re okay” Scott caught Stiles’s face in his hands, already so close that there wasn’t much space between them. He leaned across those last few inches and kissed the other man, sweet and unsure but always choosing the reckless decision. His hands curled around his friend’s cheeks, parting his lips just slightly but not ready to push further. This could have been a mistake, he had no idea what he was doing or if he had any right to cross that line, but it felt good to try. He’d learned the hard way what hesitation could cost.

Stiles almost said they didn’t have to be okay, but he was willing to offer his left kidney to get Scott to be okay with him, whatever okay meant - not hating him, not fighting him. If okay just meant friendship, it would mean the world to Stiles. He didn’t need a title to visit the prince anymore, Scott had promised that. Even if he couldn’t remember everything that happened between them, Stiles knew that when the dragon was dying, it felt like his entire world had been torn apart, and he knew that making Scott smile was suddenly one of the biggest priorities in his life.

Then Scott kissed him, and everything around them fell apart.

Stiles gasped like he’d been punched in the gut, but his hands fisted in fabrics that were probably worth more than the Stilinski’s annual earnings, dragging him as close as possible. Sweet and tender had no right to burn as much as this, no right to send sparks flying through Stiles’ mind and steal all his breath away. He could feel the curve of Scott’s grin against his lips and couldn’t do anything but answer, slowly winding his arms around the prince’s shoulders, and pushing for more, just a little more, and Stiles didn’t know what happened next but when that wasn’t enough, he pushed for everything, until Scott was a trembling mess and nothing else mattered.

"Still?" He gasped, flushed and not at all sorry for it, smiling like he’d caught a star. Or better still, a dragon. "Still okay?"

That was nothing he expected and everything he never knew he needed. It was strange to try and reconcile this man with the boy in his head with the winsome smile and their hands laced tight. He’d known him as Stiles the child and as Fainty the hapless adventurer, but he wasn’t sure how to bring the two together. Everything he knew about the man Stiles had become was his alone, the memories were gone and it was like they never happened. He knew so much more about Stiles than Stiles did about him and taking advantage of the situation was wrong. It didn’t mean he regretted a thing.

Scott gave a small nod, terrified and elated all at once as he dragged his fingertips down the curve of Stiles’s face. “You don’t know me. You remember a boy who grew up into someone you’ve never met before and the parts you did know, you don’t remember. Plus, they were pretty dragony.” The prince’s mouth pulled into a crooked smile. “I don’t even remember how to be me anymore, it’s gonna take some time to figure it out. So…maybe we start here? I don’t know if I can be the person you were looking for and I don’t want to disappoint you, Stiles.”

"You could never disappoint me, dude." Stiles said, and it sounded a little too honest for his liking, but the prince was holding his hand and he might have been holding his heart for even longer.

The young prince forced himself to let go, settling back into the plush chair that was so soft it threatened to swallow him whole. “I, um. I’m Scott, I’m a prince, and I kind of have a thing for eating too many marshmallows. It’s honestly sort of a problem. Oh, and I used to be a dragon.”

Stiles should have been more careful. He trusted the prince more easily than he had anyone else. Forgiveness wasn’t a question any longer; it happened unconditionally every time Scott smiled. His mouth still tingled like Stiles was struggling to forget what it felt like to not be kissing him. Except Stiles didn’t know how to be careful and Scott made him want to be anything but. “Well. I’m Stiles. I’m not a prince. This one time I stuck a rock up my nose because someone said I shouldn’t… I do a lot of things when people say I shouldn’t. Like chase dragons - probably.” He licked his lips, tried to get his heart to calm down before it killed them both. “I wanna know if we can still be friends. And if. If I can kiss you sometimes.”

“You have to be careful chasing dragons. Not all of them prefer cakes over wannabe knights who do things they shouldn’t.” Scott said, trying to cover his smile. Maybe he hadn’t changed at all over the years, was that possible? He was still that same wild little boy, just lanky and older. “I wanna be friends.” Scott was moving forward again, drawn inexorably towards the other man even though he knew it was such a bad idea. “I wanna be more.”

Scott laughed at himself, grabbing hold of Stiles’s shirt and pulling him into the plush chair with him. His romantic skills had never really been impressive, Allison had seen past his fumbling and awkward flirting because she wasn’t afraid of anything. There was probably an entire chapter on the proper way of courting a new acquaintance of a different rank from a foreign kingdom, but he’d always hated protocol lessons. His tutor would have had a fit to see him in such a compromising position with a noble without a title or honor in his name. “You can kiss me sometimes.” Scott meant the words to be sweet but they came out like a challenge.

Stiles voice caught in his throat, and he bestowed Scott with an admirable goldfish impression, the sort that went down in the history books as one of the greats. There were hands on his everything even if the layman called them shoulders, and a beautiful, beautiful prince trapped beneath him and the only air Stiles ever wanted was what he could breathe from Scott’s lips. They were going to die of asphyxiation, but damn would it be worth it.

His hand curled around Scott’s nape, pulling him closer until their foreheads bumped, and a thrill of pleasure ran down Stiles’ spine. “Now’s a time?” He rasped, pressing the words into Scott’s mouth, and tilting his head just so. “Or now?” He teased, licking past full lips until the prince gasped against him and squirmed. “Now?”

Now.

Scott kissed him until the world stopped turning and his lungs screamed for relief, until his skin felt like it was giving off sparks and Stiles couldn’t remember his own name. That was okay. All Stiles needed to remember was the taste of Scott’s tongue. And sitting still wasn’t so easy. In fact, it was down right - well.

"Hey." The wannabe knight huffed, squishing their noses together. "If I’m not the guy you remember, don’t freak out."

Scott laughed, nervous hands smoothing down the front of Stiles’s shirt like he wasn’t sure where to put them. “You might not be that boy, but you’re the man who tried to sneak past a dragon on a stupid donkey you were going to try and get me to eat just so you could talk to your friend again. You’re the guy who played pastry toss with me just to see if we could figure out if it was possible to overload the enchantment on the pantry. You suck at fishing just as much as I did and I didn’t even have real hands. You don’t remember it, but I don’t think that guy is any different than the one right here. You’re the one who doesn’t know me anymore…” He looked sad for a moment before brushing his lips across Stiles’s mouth, not kissing him, just teasing over and over to get his friend to try to catch him. “We were friends before I knew who you were. If you could be friends with a dragon, then maybe you’ll like me too.”

Stiles took the bait, hook line and sinker, and if he couldn’t stop grinning like a loon the whole way, neither of them saw that as a problem.

"But dragons are cool. You - not so much," he protested, finally reaping his rewards as he sucked the Prince’s lower lip pink and bruised, eyes half-lidded and so ready to be distracted. It felt like this was happening all at once and over the course of a hundred years. He’d been falling for Scott ever since the day their carriage pulled away from the Delgado Castle, and he’d realized he’d hidden his heart at the bottom of Scott’s closet, along with the Prince’s wooden soldiers. There was just so much Stiles didn’t know.

"Just keep the mages away from my memories next time, dude."

"So long as your granddad doesn’t turn me into a reptile, we have a deal."

This was good. It was good and probably wrong, but since when had he ever shied away from trouble. Scott slid down further in the chair, hands following down the line of Stiles’s body to settle on his hips with false confidence. He should stop, there was so much to learn before they raced into something that could jeopardize whatever it was they could build together, but Scott wanted and he so rarely let himself want. _Please don’t let me ruin this._

“Is it okay?” Scott tried again, breathing hard and eyes blown so dark they seemed almost black. Human skin was so sensitive and Scott was already squirming under each light touch, completely overwhelmed after so long where touch was muted and shielded by thick dragonscale. “Do you want this? I can stop if you want me to.” His hands hovered at the hem of Stiles’s shirt, wanting to slip beneath the fabric and caress the warm skin of his back, but unsure if he was allowed to push so far. “You could come and visit? When I go home, you could come and stay for a little while. Just so we can get… reacquainted. I’ll make sure there won’t be any problems with you, they’ll listen to me now.”

"Like a magical booty call?" Stiles asked, and it was a lot less funny out loud than it was in his head, but so were a lot of things. It was better to distract himself with Scott’s mouth, and it wasn’t Stiles’s fault that the prince looked so good under his hands.

"Don’t stop," the knight pleaded, almost threatened, if Stiles could ever manage to be threatening while he fidgeted over Scott’s shirt. There was too much fabric between them, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how to get it off without tearing it to pieces. He kissed Scott again, forcing him back and straddling his hips. "I really wanna touch you."

Stiles let out a breathless whine, nosing his way down his partner’s throat, insistently tugging on the front of Scott’s shirt until it just fell away like magic or someone had popped a button. He traced along the panes of Scott’s chest, fingers spreading out just below his ribs as Stiles tried to push against him, hips stuttering when friction finally, finally struck. He could just feel the scars the monster had left, but Stiles was careful, more careful than he thought he could ever be, like when he first touched a dragon’s scale.

"I miss you." He pleaded, sucking on the jut of Scott’s collarbones, fascinated by how smooth skin felt beneath his tongue. "I don’t know how but I miss you."

Stiles was warm beneath his hands as he finally had permission to slide them beneath the knight’s shirt. The muscles of his back tensed and shifted right below silken skin, hard and soft all at once and Scott was fascinated by it. He traced down the nobs of Stiles’s spine, marveling at how his body was put together and the way it moved. “It’s good.” He breathed, eyes rolling back and quiet moan escaping from between his lips as the man rocked his hips just right. “Please.”

He’d forgotten he was ticklish and huffed a laugh as he squirmed in Stiles’s hands. Scott was sure the world had decided to spin in reverse, or maybe he was just sinking down through the couch as his bones melted away. He didn’t care about good ideas or bad. He was a grown man who’d been so lonely that he could barely remember what it was like to be touched by another person. There might be consequences later, but all he wanted right now was to relearn what it felt like to be human. “S’not weird. Might be a little weird. I’m not really sure how dragons even… I mean, I never met any others.”

Scott shrugged out of his shirt, velvet pooling around him as he pulled Stiles down with more urgency. He might have been shy, but the Prince was no blushing virgin and loved without caution. His hands demanded more, pulling Stiles’s shirt up over his head so he could explore the broad expanse of pale skin that stretched between wide shoulders. It was a difficult angle to arch against the knight, so Scott settled on guiding the other man’s hips, moving together in a slow, steady roll that caused his jaw to drop.

Stiles couldn’t get enough of Scott’s laugh, or the breathy little sighs he let out when Stiles moved just right, or the way his nostrils flared when Stiles did something that blew his mind. He couldn’t get enough of Scott, and it was driving Stiles mad.

He sucked and bit across the prince’s throat, eager to leave a mark in case he never got a chance again. The possessiveness blind-sided him, and Stiles struggled to keep up, covering his partner in hungry, frantic kisses. He wanted Scott to remember him. He wanted Scott to feel him every time he moved.

His hands found the hem of Scott’s pants, and it took a lot of awkward squirming and uncoordinated flailing for them to realize that some things were better done in beds and that the castle servants probably wouldn’t appreciate Stiles ruining any more of the prince’s clothes, his own barely down his thighs. It was just so hard to care. Scott was hot and heavy in his palm, and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from tracing the curve of his cock, again and again and again. His thumb dragged across the slit, smearing precum everywhere, and the sounds Scott made would fill his dreams with new memories.

"Have you seen you?" Stiles asked, just as full of awe as the first time and his face hurt from smiling. He caught Scott’s mouth as he bore down on him, thrusting against him in a rhythm that reached frantic so soon, but it didn’t matter when Scott moaned like that.

Scott yelped some decidedly un-princelike words as he fought to get closer. The angle was all wrong, the chair was the worst idea as he squirmed to find the best way to fit his body against the knight but he was too far gone for better plans. Stiles wrote his name in Scott’s skin in a necklace of bruises that slowly darkened. He fumbled with everything, forgetting how to unfasten his pants and kneeing Stiles in the hip, but laughing too much to care. He should have been worried, but he was so fucking tired of things he should be or should want or should do when what he wanted was so much simpler.

The prince wrapped his hand around Stiles’s, bucking up into his grip without rhythm. It had been so long and he was already a wreck, cock throbbing and drooling precum between their hands. He huffed, finding it hard to speak when his mouth was desperate to taste bare skin and his toes curled. Scott relinquished his grip with a groan, cupping Stiles’s face so he could look into his face as their bodies slid and thrust against each other’s. He could drown in those brown eyes, had he ever noticed how beautiful they were before? Or the way Stiles’s mouth was red and bruised, the way his tongue left them glistening and the trouble that curled along their edges. There was the boy who made him laughed and showed him that he wasn’t alone and Scott was lost. “Please.” He whispered against the knight’s lips. “Stiles, please.”

Stiles laughed and laughed and he couldn’t figure out why, something about the way Scott’s mouth curved when he said the words and his cheeks flushed when Stiles kissed him just so, something about the way he opened up and gave in to everything Stiles dared demand. Each laugh came out like a shaky moan, and Stiles never thought he’d feel so brave. Scott was just so pretty when he cried, and he wanted to be the only one who ever got to see his prince just like this.

"Anything," Stiles hissed, his free hand tangling in Scott’s hair and when he yanked, Scott mewled and Stiles didn’t know how he managed to hold on for so long, let alone use such big words. He never gave Scott a chance to answer, attacking his mouth until Scott was just as messed up as Stiles felt, until his eyes fell shut and long lashes cast longer shadows across his cheeks. Stiles revisited every mark he’d left, kissing and nipping at darkened skin, and when he bit, Scott jolted.

"God I wanna fuck you." Stiles slurred, panting into Scott’s mouth. He ground into him, harder and faster, pinning Scott against the couch and chasing him until he broke. Pleasure surged through his nerves, pushing him closer and closer to an edge he didn’t want to tumble down, but with each desperate push he lost sight of where it was.

Scott broke apart, begging with wordless whimpers and a long, drawn out groan. All his protections had been stripped away, leaving him completely vulnerable. He canted his hips, needing more of that tight, agonizingly perfect friction. His hands clutched at Stiles’s waist, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise as he urged the knight harder. “Yes! Yeah, oh fuck.” Mark that down as another thing Scott never knew he needed until just now.

It was the image playing over in his mind of Stiles’s blissed out face, balls deep as Scott’s body yielded around him that set him over the edge and the prince gasped sharply. He came without a word or warning, shooting thick and white across his friend’s stomach and drips sliding down his knuckles. His hips slowed, frantic thrusts switching into a slow, deep roll of his hips as Scott rode out the aftershocks of pleasure that burst from the back of his skull and deep in his groin. Scott’s head hit the back of the chair with a dull thud, breathing hard. “Stiles… holy shit.”

Stiles stroked Scott through his end, shivering with every strangled moan and choked whine he could lick straight from the prince’s lips. Cum streaked over his fingers, making the best sort of mess, and when Scott’s eyes fell shut like that, Stiles groaned like he was paid to, falling apart as well, and covering his friend in slick white spurts. One of his legs was asleep, he was pretty sure the other one had rolled under the couch, but Stiles slumped against his partner and tried to find the rest of himself.

Going in for a kiss, he missed Scott’s mouth completely and smacked his nose into his partner’s lip. Stiles refused to do anything but smile. He snickered giddily, dragging his hand between them and smearing their mess everywhere.

"You’re super gross," Stiles proclaimed proudly, tucking Scott into his arms, and sliding his palm across that twitchy spot by Scott’s ribs. He soaked it in, savoring the way Scott squirmed and how he still couldn’t quite find his breath. Stiles wanted to remember the prince just like this, soft and sweet and happy, like he never really got to see before.

"I’d fight dragons for this," he realized. "Badly, probably." He nipped at Scott’s smile, and didn’t tell him it wasn’t fair. The novelty of all this washed over Stiles like a wave. He remembered running through the most beautiful gardens he’d ever known, and surely they couldn’t have been as wonderful as in his memory, but Stiles remembered thinking no one would ever catch them. He remembered with iron-clad certainty, the friend at his side who made it all worth it.

“You’d be terrible at it.” Scott laughed, shamelessly happy and wriggling to escape Stiles’s unfair hands. Well, that had been a whole lot different than with Allison, but it was good and as he smiled up at Stiles’s smug grin, he didn’t regret a thing. The dreams about the boy who’d held his hand and stole pastries from the kitchen were precious, but this was real. This man who knew everything and nothing about him all at once made his heart skip out of time and had laid him bare within minutes. Literally. “You’re grosser.”

“Pfft. You’re not going to make me call you your Highness, are you?”

The prince protested without any real rancor, trying to settle into the chair so they could both tangle together. His clothes were ruined, he would have to find some way to apologize for making a mess on borrowed velvet. That probably wouldn’t even come out, just perfect. Scott finally managed to sit himself sideways, legs slung over the other man and pressed into his side. “Mmmm, if you don’t want to call me that, maybe we can think of something else for you to use? How about ‘sir,’ I can deal with that. Or Supreme Ruler of Everything? How about My Lord, that one might be nice to use.” He teased, fingers curled around Stiles’s jaw to pull him into sloppy, uncoordinated kisses. “Scott works too. Just Scott. It’ll be nice to be your Scotty again.”

His mother’s protocol officer was going to have a fit about this, so was his Dad. Not that Scott cared much what the king wanted these days. There were so many things he wanted to show Stiles at home, unsure how much his kingdom had even changed while he’d been away. The old West tower would still be there and they could climb to the top, looking out at the lake spotted lands of his kingdom and… his thoughts took a decidedly more adult turn than the daydreams he’d had as a child “We’re definitely friends.” Scott said decisively, leaving no room for doubt or argument.

"You were always my Scotty." Stiles had no way of knowing that, but he believed it all the same. His Scott, he liked the sound of that. It was a good thing, too - even if ‘Supreme Ruler of the Everything’ still sounded pretty badass. "I guess you can call me Stiles," he sighed dramatically, licking the last taste of Scott off his lips. "Since we’re friends."

Friends and maybe Friends-Upgraded? Friends-Deluxe version? Friends who touched and kissed and maybe held hands, because Stiles wanted to hold Scott’s hand. Stiles was going to be the one who got the prince to smile at all the silly things in life, and maybe a few of the more wicked ones, too.

"Best friends."

Stiles had always been just a little suspicious, just the wrong sort of pragmatic, but Scott was the exception to all his rules. He didn’t know everything, but Scott made him feel like he knew enough.

There was still business to be had. The Queen of the Delgados herself would make the journey to reunite with her son, and Scott would get to see Stiles’ home with the really big cliff. They’d spend hours throwing fruit slices down it at the strange birds that made their homes along the rocks, and then spend ten whole minutes trying to outrun a particularly temperamental pair. They’d take Scott to a home he never thought he’d see again, and Stiles would be by his side when happiness felt overwhelming.

They’d tour the kingdoms like they never really had the chance to, and thank the Keeper of the Scrolls. Lydia would laugh and laugh at their noble steed, claiming something about an ex with a similar face. They would watch Allison grow into a well-loved and respected queen, pushing past old conflicts that benefited only Gerard’s cruelty by reaching out to the Nomadic Hales, and strengthening trade routes with the Delgados. They watched Kira become the Head Enchantress to the Argent court, a position made specifically for her.

Sometimes, Scott would bring up memories of conversations he’d had where Fainty existed, and Stiles wouldn’t be able to answer. Sometimes they both fell quiet afterwards, but mostly, Stiles had a way of wrapping himself around his prince, like a stubborn squid, and kissing him just as sloppily as one. The memories wouldn’t return, and Stiles would never really understand what Scott survived with his humanity stripped from him, but they’d make new ones, better ones, probably stupider ones even if that was up for debate.

Stiles would always remember the first time he told Scott he loved him. It was the first time Scott said he loved him, too.

 

 

 


	13. Epilogue

It was an early summer day and the air hummed with the sound of insects droning. Sunlight glinted off the crystal clear water of the small lake. The summer palace wasn’t as large as the castle in the capital city, a small but grand estate that looked like it was carved from a single piece of alabaster and streaked with pink light. It sat in the middle of the lake, the only way to approach a single strip of land connecting it to the shore or any of the elaborate boats carved into the shape of dragons that lazily sailed the still waters.

The Delgados had used the Rose Castle as their private retreat for generations and soon it would be Scott’s, a gift from his mother as his own home until it was time for her to step down and pass the crown to her son. As excited as he was about the announcement, the day had even better gifts for him.

Stiles had been kept from seeing his friend since they were children, barred by protocol and a stubborn inability to bow to royalty. He’d fought for years, planning on ways to find the boy with the sunshine smile again and willing to face down whatever danger it took to see him again. Fighting a dragon and saving a princess hardly seemed difficult in comparison, but the swords and the adventures never gave him the status he needed. After all the years of trying, on this perfect day in this perfect place, Stiles finally earned himself his title with a ring and a kiss.

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Sciles Big Bang Art by [Mel/Sixfootdeep](http://sixfootdeep.tumblr.com/)

**Chapter 1 -[ Enter the Dragon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4191252/chapters/9466362/)**

**Chapter 3 -[Puff](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4191252/chapters/9466572)**

** **

**Chapter 11 -[Release the Dragon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4191252/chapters/9466974)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We wanted to make sure that [Mel's](sixfootdeep.tumblr.com) amazing artwork was appreciated, so we're reposting all three pictures in one place so people can admire them. Please go tell her she's awesome!


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